


To The Stars and Back Again

by HiatusMusings



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: F/M, season 5 canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 68,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18852211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiatusMusings/pseuds/HiatusMusings
Summary: Eligius came down at year six looking for more than just the planet they had known. And as Bellamy watches the planet turn from the safety of the Ark, Clarke fights battles on more than one front, and soon, she’s going to bring the battle to him.A reimagining of Season 5.





	1. Chapter 1

The Beginning  
_I’m coming for you. That other prize rocketed to the cold stars so you’re going to get all my love. Lucky you. I’ll lick the back of your heels as you run blindly through the spindly trees. I’ll roar a song in your ears, a lullaby of my best and darkest secrets. You’re going too fast little one, here, i’ll slow you down. Did that hurt? Oh, deary me. Why do you keep running? It’s as though you think safety is a place i’ll still allow._

**Bellamy. Earth can go piss itself. I survived. Somehow. Crawled out of Becca’s lab and found the Rover, and apparently a brand new desert. This planet is well truly fucked. Me too. My gums are bleeding. Patches of skin are falling off. My eyesight keeps blurring. Hot stuff, am I right? Look at me, gaining a sense of humor at the end of the world, if there ever was a time...and since I’m just talking to you in my head, I wish I could say this ache is just hunger, but I know it’s something else. Loneliness is going to have to be my friend for a little while longer. But soon i’ll be at the bunker door, and they’ll open it because, because...they’ll open the door Bellamy, won’t they?**

***

Year 6  
The seven members of Spacekru slept among the stars. For some, entering into the sixth year was a blessing in disguise. Monty, Harper, and Emori dreamed peacefully in the knowledge that the vacuum of space was far safer than the wilds of the ground. 

For others, sleep was just another nightmare. Bellamy saw his sister slowly starving to death in a bunker meant to last only 5 years. Raven opened and closed her eyes to the growing pressure of a return date long since come and gone. Echo only saw trees and blue skies in the hundreds of hours of pre-war archives she watched as the days ticked by. Murphy watched the woman he loved become someone new, someone that didn’t need him.

But whether they welcomed dreams, or feared nightmares, they slept on. The mysterious ship that had entered into orbit on their left nearly three months ago stayed silent to their hails. The transport pod that had hurtled to the ground shortly after it arrived had left them all unsettled.

Eligius IV. They’d seen the name on the hull when they’d been at the right angle in their orbits. It gnawed at Bellamy that there could be people on the ground, people that he didn’t know, people that only had to open a door to the bunker to find his sister. Raven was working on a solution to get the rocket they’d taken up to the ark ready to make the short trip over to Eligius IV. It was a last resort though, they were hesitant to make new enemies. 

So they lived in a tense limbo. Fixed broken machines. Developed a better way to gulp down algae. Attempted to explain to Emori and Echo the concept of desk jobs. They grew used to six years of a relatively calm, quiet, space existence. Six years of simply waiting for the next thing to happen.

So, it was rather a surprise one early morning when Bellamy was thrown across the room from the cot he shared with Echo, the whole station seeming to buck and shudder around them. 

“What the fuck,” Bellamy yelled, blinded for a moment at the sharp pain caused from ramming his head into the dresser. Echo shot up next to him scrambling for the sword he refused to let her keep beneath the bed. “Bellamy, are you okay?” she asked as she looked around the room. trying to find something to fight, and only finding the corners of walls to blame.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said hopping up from the floor, checking his skull for blood. Finding none, he pulled on his ark issued sweatpants, hurrying over to the press the comm button on the panel by their door. 

“Raven, come in! Are you there?” He asked, his heart racing as he thought of the millions of scenarios space gave you for dying. Had they blown a panel? Had they been hit by an asteroid? Had the long-dormant ship near them finally attacked?

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m okay, I’m in my room,” the mechanic finally yelled back through. “I’m heading to the deck to see what’s happening. All the life support systems are still reading as normal. If we have a breach it’s slow one.”

“I’ll meet you there,” he said, flipping the comm back off and grabbing his shirt from the dresser. 

“Bellamy, what could cause that?” Echo asked warily, all these years having given her a strong grasp of pre-war sitcoms, but still left the running of the go-sci largely in the “inconceivable magic” category. 

“I don’t know,” he said quickly, adrenaline still zipping through his body. He’d woken up ready to fight, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to head over to meet Raven, she might need help. Get the rest of them over there, and grab the suits just in case whatever hit us starts compromising life support systems.”

Echo nodded, squeezing his hand briefly before leaning over to grab her shoes as Bellamy strode out the door and down the long hallway toward command central for the station.

He could see Raven at the far end. She was still in the shorts she slept in, her leg brace tight against her bare leg. Her long dark hair fell messily around her shoulders, nearly getting caught in the keys that she was frantically typing at. 

As he got up to her he looked all around the bridge. His heart rate slowed once he saw that there was no hiss of air running through a damaged panel. The big window in front of them still showing their ruined planet, the sole green spot now in view, the ship to their left as still and quiet as ever.

“Raven,” he started

“Shut up,” she said, fingers zooming over keys, checking the numbers as they ran across the screen.

“Raven-” he tried again.

“Shut up Bellamy,” Raven growled out. Bellamy sighed, leaving his hands on his hips as he looked to the ceiling. He loved Raven, but sometimes it took the kind of patience he’d had to reach for when Octavia was a preteen to coax her into explaining the travesties of the tin can they all resided in.

“Oh my god,” she said suddenly, backing away from the system.

“What?” He asked back in alarm. Nothing good ever came from Raven looking at the computer system in fear. If it scared Raven, they were doomed.

She turned to him, eyes wide, “we weren’t hit by an asteroid. A ship docked in the loading bay. A big one.” 

“What, where?” Bellamy asked, looking back out the window as though it would somehow come into view. 

“It’s the docking bay is below us dumbass,” Raven said giving him a long-suffering look. When we came up we used the one on the side because of the damage to the larger one from when the exodus ship came down. But there’s something there now, or someone I guess.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the implications of what she was saying feeling like a weight on his chest. “Our hospitality skills are a little rusty Raven,” Bellamy finally. Raven opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by Murphy jogging down to the bridge from his claimed side of the station.

“What, in Jaha’s ass, was that,” Murphy groaned coming onto the deck, his hair limp around his eyes. “I think I have a concussion.”

“Shut up Murphy,” Raven yelled back, “and grab your gun. We need to get down to the lower docking bay, like yesterday.”

Murphy dropped his hands from his eyes, “seriously?” 

“No, this is my not serious face, asshole,” she snarled turning to the mainframe of computers. “I’m locking us down, if they want to get through the airlock they’re going to have to ask really, really nicely.”

“Well, good thing I still sleep with my gun, like a boy scout,” Murphy supplied, raising two fingers together.

“Right, Echo should have the others here in a few minutes,” Bellamy announced, “I’m going down there now, Murphy you’re with me.”

“Oh Captain, my Captain” Murphy said dropping the pointer finger to turn his Boy Scout signal into a single finger salute before following him out of the bridge. 

Bellamy ignored him, turning to jog back down the gangway and to the stairs that led to the bottom floor, now mostly filled with anything that hadn’t been deemed useful by Raven or Emori. 

“You don’t think the grounders managed to find a rocket and learned how to become astronauts in the last six years do you?” Murphy asked behind him, slightly out of breath. Bellamy was breathing more evenly thanks to the miles and miles of jogging he did to eat up the hours.

“When has that ever been our luck Murphy?” Bellamy asked incredulously, while at the same time trying to tamp down whatever scraps of hope still lived in his soul. Images of his sister coming through the other side of the airlock creeping into his mind. 

“Do you think it’s Eligius?” He asked hesitantly, his voice more serious now. Bellamy stayed quiet, because he’d had the same thought. Raven had been able to glean bits of information about Eligius corp from the archives. Images of mining missions and prisoner transports had filled the screens, then nothing. The records ended once the bombs had gone off. 

“We can’t assume anything,” he said finally, hopping down three steps at a time, “one problem at a time Murphy.”

“Whoever it is, I hope they have something to eat besides algae,” Murphy said as they got closer, now seeing the damage to the inside of the hull. The metal had pushed in as a ship much too large for their bay scraped against the edges of the docking mechanism. 

Bellamy was about to crack him over the head when they heard three hard raps against the circular door. He shared a look with Murphy, before holding the radio up to his mouth, “Raven, I think someone just knocked.”

“Well that’s disturbing,” she said back.

“I’m disturbed that you find it disturbing,” Murphy muttered behind him. 

“Are you getting anything up there?” He asked

“They tried to access the door controls a few times but looks like they gave up. Probably why they’ve resorted to...knocking. They must have an airtight seal from their ship to the bay.”

The knocking came again, more insistent this time, and something else that sounded like a very muffled cry of help. 

“Oh Ripley save us,” Murphy sighed, checking the number of bullets in his hand gun. Bellamy hadn’t brought one, these days the most dangerous thing he carried on him was a Phillip's screwdriver. 

“Help us! Open up please!” the cries were clearer now, and something about them sounded...young. 

“Raven, can you get communication up? It sounds like someone is asking for help. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“I’m trying,” Raven yelled back through the radio. “I have to reroute some shit first, Emori, grab this and get over to the server.” Bellamy could hear the two women working the problem, but it didn’t stop the panic from rising. Good or bad, whoever was on the other side of that door needed help. God knows they could have used it when they barely got the air on in time on the ring. 

“Okay, I’m turning on the comm systems in the docking bay, unless the ship damaged it on the way in you should be able to hear them, and they you, okay?” She said.

“Got it,” he said.

“Be careful Bell,” Raven said, “we’re not very good at...people,” she clicked off before Bellamy could reply.

There was only static for a moment, but then the radio was filled with the pounding. “Open up she’s dying please help me please!” screamed a voice he didn’t recognize.

“This is Bellamy Blake, who is this?” he asked evenly into the radio. 

The tearful cries on the walkie were cut short with a sharp intake of breath. “Bellamy?” The same strange voice asked. It wasn’t just clear that it was a kid now, it was clear that the voice was happy that he’d said his name was Bellamy.

He met Murphy’s shocked expression. “The Bunker?” Murphy mouthed soundlessly to him.  
Bellamy shook his head in bewilderment, staring at the walkie. A part of his brain was attaching the mystery voice to an image of 10 year old Octavia on the other side of the door, it had that same bit of wonder to it that she’d use to attach to him. 

“Who are you?” He asked again, his hand tight around the control.

“I’m,” the voice faltered, “she said I could trust you Bellamy, please, open up.” 

Bellamy wanted to believe that opening that door was the right choice, the kid was obviously scared. But all the times they’d tried to be the good guy seemed to flash before him, and it had ended with his sister under the ground and Clarke burned alive in Praimfaya. 

Finally it was Murphy who grabbed the remote from his hand. “We’re going to ask one more time, who the fuck is this. How do you know that name?”

A sob passed through the radio, “please, please you have to help her, she said you’d help, she said-”

The voice was cut off suddenly and replaced by a man’s strained and gruff tone. “Listen up. I’ve got Clarke Griffin bleeding out all over me, we don’t have time to explain a story you wouldn't believe so listen to the kid and just open the damn door.”

Murphy looked over at Bellamy, eyes wide. “Did he just say Clarke Griffin?”

Suddenly, all Bellamy could hear was an odd ringing in his ears. For a moment he was right back in Becca’s lab. She was telling him to use his head. She was giving him her dying request and he hadn’t even known it. But as he walked over to the lever he knew that using his head wasn’t an option. If Clarke, or her ghost, or someone that had known her was somehow behind this door he was going to open it. There wasn’t even a choice. 

He threw off Murphy’s grab at his arm, shoving the smaller man down to the floor before he could stop him and grabbed the bar moving it up to release the doors, filling the room with the sounds of grinding metal and pressurized air. 

He could vaguely sense Murphy scrambling back to his feet, but he ignored it, eyes glued to the hatch entrance as the voices from the walkie stepped through. 

His first words were tinged more with relief than disappointment, “that’s not Clarke,” he said as a strange trio came through the hatch. 

The first person was a dark-skinned man, dressed in what looked like black pre-war military gear, American by the badges. His neck was enclosed in a metal collar that seemed to dig painfully into the skin, dried blood crusted at the edges. The second was a kid, a girl dressed similar to how the grounders had. Her sharp blue eyes were set in a face that was streaked with tears and a large black bruise covered her right cheek.

It took Bellamy a second to really see the third figure. Murphy was swearing up a storm and trying to push Bellamy behind him as he raised his gun up, yelling at the man to stop moving. It was then that he realized the man’s uniform wasn’t black. It was olive colored, the black was coming from the third person hefted over his shoulder. 

“Alright, alright i’m putting her down,” the man yelled, as he lowered the person to the ground, a woman, and shouted to the young girl to get behind him. 

The man was careful about it, resting her head gently on the ground. Long, matted hair that maybe he could call blonde beneath the dirt that streaked through it covered her face. She wasn’t dressed like either the man or the girl, but in a ripped and worn black tank top, and a pair of cotton shorts that hung on her loosely. Her thin, bare arms were covered in more wounds and cuts than actual skin. Once she was laid down the black blood seemed to pools around her reaching toward him. He should have known then, who else in the world was left with blood that color? But he couldn’t comprehend it, he couldn’t see her.

Until she opened her eyes. 

“Bellamy,” she whispered her blue eyes like a shock of sky.

“Clarke?” he said, in a voice that didn’t sound like his own. He was vaguely aware of Raven’s voice coming back through the radio as Murphy started yelling into it, strange garbled clips of conversation that didn’t make sense. 

“Get down”  
“Bring Harper...med-bag now!”  
“It’s Clarke!”  
“What are you saying?”  
“There’s a kid”  
“What the fuck?”  
“There’s some asshole here too, bring more guns, bring Echo’s sword...and Echo.”

He ignored all of it as he dropped to his knees, reaching out to touch some part of her that wasn’t bleeding. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real. It had been asteroids and they were all dead and this was some kind of terrible afterlife where he got to live different versions of Clarke dying in front of him.

“Bellamy,” the woman, no, Clarke said again. 

“I’m here, Clarke, I’m here, i’m on the ring,” he whispered, because he didn’t know what else to say. It’s what he told her in his dreams. When she was crying in front of him and he wanted to tell her that she hadn’t died for nothing. He knew he should be doing something besides kneeling down next to this terrible version of her but he couldn’t quite get his brain and his body to connect to one action.

He should be figuring out who this man was that had carried her in and looked ready to pass out as he wearily raised his arms over his head in response to Murphy’s yells. He should be asking why there was a child crouched down over Clarke’s feet, terror written all over her face. He should really be more concerned about all the blood that seemed to be flooding out of her. 

But he couldn’t. He could only look at her as though she might suddenly disappear if he blinked too long. She was moving her mouth again, the words too soft to make out. He crouched down closer, the smells of antiseptic, blood, and something that reminded him of when they’d burned all those grounders at the drop ship filling his nose.

He turned his head, keeping one eye on hers as he bent his ear closer to her. His heart was pounding in his head. 

“Clarke?” he whispered, because she was speaking so softly and he thought perhaps he should too.

“Bell...I’m sorry...” she said, her voice cracking and halting.

“It’s okay, Clarke, don’t worry we’re going to take care of you,” he said trying to say something, anything that would stop the fear that filled her eyes. But now she was saying something, a single word over and over again from the shape her mouth was making. It took him a moment to figure it out. 

Hurry. 

That’s when all hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

Year 1  
_Smart move Wanheda. You are an unmitigated disaster. Did you forget how I made that spire fall? Didn’t you watch? Haven’t you been listening? This isn’t a game you can win. I’m holding all the cards. I’m the deck. I’ll be keeping these remnants you cry for. There’s a child inside that thinks she can outlast me. You seem to have stopped listening. Perhaps i’ll whisper in her ears for awhile. ___

____

____

**Bellamy. I’ve found the ghosts. I’ve found...a radio. Good. Talking to yourself is much less disturbing when you can talk into a thing meant for the words. Soon though, I won’t have spit left to form the sentences. The thoughts will just rattle around in my skull again. I’ve done too much to be given time to contemplate in silence. Should I just keep driving? Should I keep trying to find...what do I think I’ll find? ******

********

********

Year 6

Discovering that Clarke was alive, and not just alive but on the ship should have transported Bellamy from a nightmare to a dream come true. But he should have known, Clarke never made it easy to keep her alive. 

Bellamy could see the gun shaking in Murphy’s hands as he leveled to the face of the man that had hauled Clarke’s body through the airlock. He was pretty sure the only reason Murphy didn’t immediately pull the trigger was that the little girl started yelling at him using his full name.

“John Murphy stop it now!” She screamed when she saw that Bellamy was making no move to intervene. She ran over, placing herself between the man and the gun, her glare so reminiscent of Clarke that Murphy took two steps back before he even knew what he was doing. 

Thank God for Monty and Harper. They made it down to the lower deck, Echo in front of them, sword in hand. Their eyes grew wide as they took in the scene before them. Bellamy crouched over Clarke’s limp form, black blood slick up to his elbows as he rolled her on to her back, searching for the main wound. A strange little girl who had now placed herself between an irate Murphy with a handgun, and the man who’d carried Clarke in, who was now kneeling on the floor, swaying slightly.

“Oh my God,” Monty muttered under his breath, as Harper’s eyes narrowed on Bellamy frantically trying to find a way to staunch the blood. 

“Bellamy, stop it,” she said firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder and bringing him back to reality a little bit more. She knelt down beside him, pulling the medical kit they’d cobbled together from scavenging the ark beside her. 

“She’s bleeding too much Harper,” he said roughly, his hands pressed against the side of her abdomen and the 8-inch opening that raced across her ribs, the hard outline of which felt nauseatingly close to his palm. 

“It’s coming from her head,” said the little girl behind him. Bellamy startled a moment, turning his gaze finally from Clark to look over to her. She was more composed now, the flurry of yelling and activity having the opposite effect on her. “Clarke always said head wounds bleed the most. I tried to put a bandage on it but I barely got her strapped into the chair before Shaw got the rockets going.”

“What’s your name,” Bellamy finally asked, trying to put some logic around what she was telling him as Harper moved to place the bandages at the base of Clarke’s neck. 

“Madi,” she said, “Clarke found me. I’m hers.”

“Okay Madi,” Bellamy said, looking over to where Monty and Echo had convinced Murphy to put the gun down. Echo had her sword edge level with the man’s throat, although it would be hard to kill him that way with a metal collar around his neck. “Can you tell me who that is? Is he the one who did this to Clarke?”

She seemed to consider her words carefully, and it was so much like Clarke that he felt a strange urge to laugh bubble in his throat. “I, I don’t really know, he, he told me it’s his fault and he’s trying to, to help now, he helped us escape them.” She shrugged, and he noticed her wince at the movement.

“Are you okay Madi?” Bellamy asked nervously, he wasn’t sure their skimpily stocked med bay could handle two critically injured people. 

Made squared her shoulders, “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Please don’t hurt Shaw too much though, we need him alive for what comes next.” 

“You want to elaborate on that hobbit?” Murphy said caustically, his gun tucked back into the back of his pants again, “or literally explain anything that’s happening right now.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Get Clarke up to your med bay. Give Shaw some water and put him in a cell. When you’ve done both those things i’ll explain why Mom and I had to come up here.”

“Mom?” Bellamy’s voice cracked.

“You look kind of old to be Clarke’s,” Murphy said from the back.

Madi turned toward him, “shut up Murphy,” she said. 

The radio crackled on the floor then, Raven’s voice coming through the static, “I like her already.”

***

Harper and Monty broke the legs off an old folding table they found among the cast off furniture, and with Bellamy’s help they shifted Clarke’s limp form onto it. Madi kept the soaked bandage pressed against the back of her neck, only letting go when Harper’s careful fingers wrapped around the girl’s wrist. 

Madi then walked over to where Shaw still kneeled, Echo’s sword now by her legs but her eyes never leaving the man. Madi put her shoulder underneath his, helping him stand, “thanks kid,” Bellamy thought he heard him mutter as his head hung down from exhaustion. 

“I need to come with Clarke, she’s lost too much blood and I’m the only one who can give her a donation while someone stitches her up,” Madi said, looking over to Murphy now. “Think you can get him to a room without blowing his head off?”

Murphy cocked his head, then made a big show of taking the clip out of the gun and handing it to Madi, “here you go. But for future reference, I don’t need bullets to kill your friend here,” Murphy said. 

“Yeah, Clarke always said you were resourceful,” Madi replied, she turned to look at Echo, “you’ll help him?”

Echo’s eyebrows shot up her face as she glanced over to him, Bellamy stared back at her pleadingly, “yes,” she said finally, taking Shaw’s arm from around the girl, and nodding at Murphy to take the other. “We’ll join you once he’s secured and...looked after,” she said hesitantly as she and Murphy started up the stairs, Shaw groaning as they went.

“Great,” Madi huffed out, then she turned to look at Bellamy as and Monty grasped the edges of the table Clarke laid upon. “Please, we need to hurry.”

“Okay,” Harper said as they walked over to the staircase, “go slow, I’ll keep pressure on her neck. Monty, go first, Bellamy’s taller than you, I don’t want her slipping off the end from the tilt as you go up.”

“Got it,” Bellamy said as he and Monty lifted up the table together, Clarke’s frame adding too little weight to it. They made a strange parade back up the stairs. Murphy and Echo holding up the dead weight of Shaw between them, awkwardly stepping up the too narrow staircase. 

Monty, Bellamy, and Harper kept hold on the table, adjusting every few steps to keep her level and pressure on her neck. Madi was a small shadow behind them all, her eyes trained on Clarke, but Bellamy could feel them running over his back every few moments. 

Raven’s dark ponytail was the first thing Bellamy could see as they crested the last steps, the three-legged race of Murphy, Shaw, and Echo having turned off to the left toward some of the empty rooms they could lock from the outside. 

“Oh my god,” Raven said, tears rolling down her face, Emori was next to her, eyes wide at the sight of them. 

“Raven?” Madi called out in almost a reverent voice.

“Hey,” Raven’s voice trembled. “Thanks for taking care of Clarke for us,” she turned with the group as they went down the hallway, Emori darting ahead to turn on the lights in their little medical room. 

“I haven’t done a very good job lately,” her small voice replied. She was starting to panic. He could tell that whatever bravado the girl possessed was quickly depleting as the well of black blood dripped off the table behind them despite the bandage Harper pressed to her neck.

“Okay everyone, lower her slowly,” Harper instructed, the bright lights illuminating Clarke’s injuries into horrific detail as Bellamy moved her as little as possible from the hard metal of the table to the more padded bed. For a moment they simply looked down at Clarke. 

This was how Bellamy knew he was in shock. Because seeing these injuries any other time would have had him heaving up all the algae in his stomach. The injury to the back of her neck was the one leaking her of blood, but there were long shallow cuts all over her body. Her stomach and arms were littered with them. He could see healed wounds too, carefully stitched lines that had broken open once more, a rib that stuck out a little too much against her skin.

Her neck and collarbones looked like they’d been burned and his mind flashed back to that collar around Shaw’s neck. Had they, whoever “they” were done that to her as well? His eyes drifted down to her hands, and the lack of fingernails. Something tightened around his chest and he felt like he would never take a full breath again.

“Can we get going here?” Madi said, her voice right at Bellamy’s elbow. She had been sticking close to him but now moved over to the drawers. “We need a transfusion kit so I can give her a blood donation. Do you you have thread for her neck? Clarke taught me how to do all kinds of stitches. I’m really good, but I might not make them very well after I donate I haven’t had a lot to eat lately.”

“Hold on Madi,” Harper said calmly, leading her back to the bed next to Clarke. She pulled tubing and a clear plastic bag from the drawers Madi had been pawing at, and laid them next to her. “Monty, grab some more gauze for Clarke’s neck, I’m going to get this started.”

“Clarke didn’t mention that you knew your way around the med bay,” Madi said to Harper accusingly. 

Harper looked over at Bellamy before answering, “Well she wouldn’t, I didn’t have to learn how until we didn’t have her around anymore. I’m not as good as her though, so this might hurt a little.”

“It’s okay,” the girl looked down as Harper swabbed the crook of Madi’s elbow, “I can handle it.” Harper didn’t say anything to that, just slipped the needle into her arm, turned the dial and gave it a quick glance as the black blood began filled the pouch. 

Harper turned back to Clarke, and Bellamy saw her hesitate as she took in the state of their once-dead friend, swallowing back her nervousness. Bellamy moved a finger over to check the faint pulse in her neck, “Harper,” he said quietly, hoping to steady her as her hands hovered over Clarke’s arms.

She looked up at him, and then glanced over at Monty. The young sharp shooter from the drop ship clenched her jaw, spun out a spool of medical thread with a needle at the end. “Okay delinquents. We can do this.” 

Bellamy delicately turned Clarke’s head, lifting the matted black and blonde strands from her neck. The cut was six inches long and deep. He could see torn tissue, and a black bruise spreading around the cut, spidering along the bones of her spine and up into her scalp. 

Bellamy looked back at Madi, the young girl had tears tracking down her cheeks as she looked at the injury. Bellamy moved in front of her, blocking Clarke from her view. “Raven, Emori, go check on Murphy and Echo,” he said, “Monty, Harper and I can handle this. We’ll come get you when it’s done.”

Raven stared at him, her large eyes filled with all the layers of guilt he was so intimately acquainted with. But she was Raven for a reason, and with a quick nod, a mask of steel dropped across her face as she pulled Emori out of the room and down the hall. 

Harper went over to the pouch that Madi’s body had slowly filled with black blood, and clamped the flow. 

“That’s all we need right now Madi,” Harper said sliding the needle out of the girl’s arm, her eyes heavy. “Do you want to rest while we help Clarke? You can sleep right here, we’ll wake you if anything,” Harper paused, unwilling to say what anything could encompass. 

Madi swallowed hard, Bellamy could see a deep purple bruise peeking out on her shoulders, he’d had matching ones when they’d escaped to the ark. Her hands were stained with Clarke’s blood, the black peeling off in flakes. What had she seen? What did she have to do to get Clarke up to them? 

Madi nodded, and Harper grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed, and set a glass of water near her. Bellamy tried not to watch as her head fell back against the bed, her eyes fighting to stay on Clarke as the blood donation and adrenaline crash forced them closed in moments. 

Her even breathing filled the room, as Harper, Monty, and Bellamy set to work stitching the Princess back together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of show day, little chapter featuring our favorite zero-g mechanic.

Year 1

_Wait. Stop. I don’t want the fun to end. I’ll throw you a bone, instead of turning you into one. There, now if you point that gun in a different direction and shoot the food that’s flying above you, you just might, find a surprise._

**Bellamy. There’s a valley. A living valley. Maybe I’m dead, and this is my heaven. But that’s ridiculous, I haven’t done anything good enough to deserve this. It’s so gorgeous I feel guilty you’re stuck up there, eating algae. Oh god, Murphy is really going to kill me for sending him to space, and then finding this.**

_But what did you really find Wanheda?_

**Bellamy. I found a kid here. She’s a natblida. Or a demon. We’re in negotiations. She won the first round with a bear trap. But hey, at least I’m not alone now. And my hair has stopped falling out. Only lost the one tooth. I have food, but, things still taste a bit...sandy. It’s okay though, it’s more than I have a right to have. I hope you’re okay. I wish you’d answer. Why haven’t you?**

Year 6

Raven walked as quickly down the grey hallways feeling like one of the electrical panels on the ark. One with too many wires going too many places so that one bad splice would send her crashing down. 

Emori kept casting side glances at her as they went along, the only sounds between them the clang of her metal brace scraping against the walls when she took the turns too fast. Finally, it was too much. 

She slammed her hand into the metal walls, again and again and again as images of Clarke on that last day swam in her mind. Telling her to go to the tower. Telling Bellamy to leave her behind. Not ever getting to tell her thank you. Thank you for burning so I wouldn’t. She heaved up what little algae was in her, Emori’s hand laying on her back until her stomach stopped rolling.

“I never even considered she could be…” Raven choked out, “I left her behind.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Emori said, handing her a piece of fabric to wipe her mouth off with. 

“It’s Clarke,” Raven said, shaking her head and straightening up. “I should have known she’d find a way. She always found a way.”

“Fine, but destroying the hands of the person that kept us alive up here isn’t what Clarke would want,” Emori said carefully, bringing Raven’s shaking fingers up in her upturned palms to check for any broken bones. “She’d want us to figure out what to do next. And to make sure Echo and Murphy haven’t killed that guy she came up here with for giggles.” 

Raven closed her eyes. Big mistake, she just saw Clarke laying in that pool of dark blood. But Emori was right. Raven could fix a lot, but she couldn’t fix people. Her efforts were better used trying to understand how this moment had come to be. 

She shook herself once, felt her ponytail loosening. As they continued their walk down the hall she slipped the band off of her hair, pulling it hard and tight again. The tug of it would give her a headache, but pain had become a kind of constant friend these years. She had a feeling Clarke could say the same. 

***  
Raven, Murphy, Emori, and Echo stood four across from the man that was bleeding and shackled to the chair in front of them. Echo had her sword in hand, while Murphy crouched down, trying to catch the man’s eyes. But he looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. 

Raven eyed his neck, that contraption was still around it. Spidery lines and scorch marks crept up under it, twins to the ones around Clarke’s neck. 

“So, we’re all really good at making friends,” Murphy finally said into the awkward silence. 

“Shut up John,” Emori said moving closer to the man. “I thought the child said to help him?”

“She also said he hurt Clarke,” Murphy replied, standing up from his crouch and crossing his arms. 

“Enough,” Raven said, laying the bag she had brought from the infirmary down beside her, unzipping it to take out some gauze, iodine, and a pair of tweezers. The man met her eyes. He may be silent, but she could recognize pain a mile away. She waved the tweezers in front of him. “You know, I once tortured a guy with electricity to get information. How about I do the opposite to you, and get that thing off your pretty neck?”

The guys straightened up, seemingly eager for her to start. “And just so you know,” Raven continued “I’m pretty awesome at fixing things, so if you stay silent much longer about why Clarke looks the way she does, I’m gonna put it back on you and press sizzle.”

“Clarke wouldn’t like that,” the man said, “and you can call me Shaw.”

“Well look at that, my stranger danger is just melting away,” Murphy growled. Echo merely began a slow walk around Raven and Shaw as the former took a place behind him, opening up the little control panel on the back of the collar to start disconnecting the wires. 

“So, who the hell are you Shaw?” Murphy said, his shorn hair sticking out at too many angles. Emori used to be the one to keep him in some semblance of order. 

“You’re not familiar with the ship to your left?” Shaw said softly, not wanting to disturb the delicate work Raven was performing. 

“So you are Eligius? We hailed you guys but no one answered. Then we saw the shuttle go down. Since then it’s been just another piece of space junk over there.” Murphy said, his bad cop routine melting into something closer to Raven’s own burning curiosity. 

Shaw closed his eyes briefly, “can you tell me how Clarke’s doing? Is the kid okay? We had a rough take off.”

“I think we’ll be the ones asking questions about Clarke,” Murphy snarled.

“Can everyone just shut up for a second?” Raven barked out. She took a breath as the discussion cut out, steadying her hand. Finally, she clipped the delicate wires together, and the catch released. The collar falling half off his neck, Raven pulling away the rest of it as Shaw started coughing and clearing his throat. Raven lightly ghosted her fingers over the burn marks that littered his skin. 

“Thanks Raven,” he said.

Raven took a step back in surprise, then in anger as she rounded to face him again, the collar still in her hand. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said.

“I do though,” he said, shrugging “Clarke talked about all of you a lot.”

“We don’t give a fuck start answering our questions!” Murphy yelled.

“I’ve got a better idea Murphy,” Shaw said, a shaky smile on his face now. “How about you go back in the shuttle I came up in and find some of the rations and water stored there. I bet the kid is hungry and I could use something to drink besides your recycled piss.” 

“You’re not going to tell us anything are you?” Raven asked quietly.

Shaw’s smile slipped off his face “no, I’m not. Not until Clarke wakes up.”

“Is someone coming after you? Are we in danger right now?” Emori asked, she reached over and laid a hand on Murphy’s shoulder. He glanced over in surprise.

Shaw sighed, “for the time being, up here is safer than down there. The ones that aren’t on ice, are dead in the water. The kid made sure of that. You should listen to her, like when she said to not kill me or anything. I can’t stress enough how important not killing me is.”

“This little game of yours only works if Clarke wakes up,” Raven said to him softly. “If she dies, I don’t care what the child said, you’re going to find yourself on the wrong side of the airlock.”

Shaw grinned, “I think I’m in love.”


	4. Chapter 4

Year 2  
 _I have to say. You’re starting to win me over. Hopefully you don’t do anything too stupid to mess it up._

**Bellamy. It’s been two years. Madi and I, we’re doing really well, considering. She loves the stories, I’m still leaving a lot out though. Little kid already woke up to a dead world, I don’t need to give her another reason to have nightmares. Also. I’m thinking about doing something really stupid.**

_And there you go._

Year 6  
Hours later, Harper set the suture kits down with shaking hands. 

“I think that’s all for now,” she said, her words more confident that her expression. Clarke’s arms, legs, and torso were all wrapped up in layers of bandages, keeping the stitched cuts clean and safe from infection. At Harper’s direction Madi had carefully braided away Clarke’s matted, bloodied hair from her neck, the tail of it snaking across the pillow as the main injury was sewn together. The blood donation Madi had given was set up on a hook above Clarke’s bed, sliding into her veins, and Harper took one vial of their ever precious morphine reserves, sliding it into the crook of her elbow.

They’d done everything they could, like usual, the rest was up to Clarke. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Madi’s small voice asked from her position at Clarke’s head. She’d only taken a short nap after the blood donation, springing up out of the bed with a shriek. Harper had dropped a stitch.

Now her fingers were lightly stroking the ends Clarke’s braid. Bellamy hadn’t missed that Madi had made sure to keep hold of some part of Clarke at all times as they worked. He wondered how long they’d been separated before rocketing up to space. 

“Yes,” Harper said, wiping her hands on a towel and turning toward Madi fully. “She’s going to need to rest, and we need to find some way to keep her hydrated, but she will be fine.” 

Madi stared up at Harper, her eyebrows all knitted up, but her face smoothed out slightly at Harper’s steady gaze. “Okay,” she said, digging something out of her pocket, a flash of silver in her hand, “thank you Harper.”

Bellamy watched her slip the bit of silver on Clarke’s wrapped wrist, and his gut twisted as he saw what she’d placed there. Clarke’s old watch. “I remember that,” he said, mostly to himself. 

Madi nodded, “I was keeping it safe while they had her. It helps her think.”

The reminder that Clarke had been taken, from wherever she and Madi had called home, and felt safe, brought the question to Bellamy’s mind once again. He was about to ask but Monty grasped his shoulder, slowly shaking his head. 

“Madi,” Monty said, walking around the bed hastily peeling off the bloody black gloves, “when was the last time you ate?”

Madi looked up at him, furrowing her brow, “I think,” she paused, “maybe yesterday? I ran out of the safe,” and then she clamped her mouth shut, her eyes angry at Monty as though he’d caught her out. Monty looked over at Bellamy and he couldn’t help but notice the slight sway to the little girls’ frame, the red and chapped fingers that curled around Clarke’s still one. 

“Listen Madi,” Monty said, “We’ve all got a lot of questions, but I’m a little afraid of what Clarke will say if she wakes up and finds out we didn’t immediately get you something to eat and drink after you staged a rescue, rocketed to space, and donated blood.”

A small smile flickered at the girl’s mouth. “I don’t want to leave Clarke alone,” she said, but Bellamy could hear the note of curiosity there. A child born on the ground was now on a spaceship. She wanted to take a look around.

“Madi, I’ll stay here,” Bellamy said, “I promise I’ll look after Clarke if you go with Monty and Harper to get cleaned up and something to eat.”

Madi nodded slightly, slipping her hand out of Clarke’s and with a last look over at him she motioned for Monty and Harper to lead the way. Before they left she turned back to face him, “I don’t like the beard, you don’t look like the drawings.”

He opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, but she walked out before he could, his hand absently rubbing the offending hair as the footsteps drifted off. He looked back at Clarke’s still form, and slid one of the chairs over to her bedside. Taking one hand and resting his thumb on the pulse point in her wrist, he stared at the face he thought would only ever exist in the past. 

***  
Monty led the little girl into the main control room. It’s where they all ate, and played games, and generally passed the years together, but really, he wanted to bring her there because of the view. 

As they got closer she seemed to understand and she ran towards it and something about her was so, so Jasper that it felt like a pin sticking him in the ribs. 

She pressed her hands up to the glass, staring down at the planet. Monty wished it looked like it did when he’d been her age. All blue and green and swirling white clouds. Now the predominant color was brown, the emerald spot in the northwest hemisphere the only vivid color. 

“Is that my-” Madi called back over her shoulder.

“Your home,” Harper filled in for her, “yeah, must be. It’s the only green spot we’ve seen, and we’ve been watching pretty closely these years.”

Monty thought he heard Madi mutter back something about listening too, but he ignored it to splash some of the green algae into a bowl, walking it back over to the table. 

“Now, I’ve heard excellent reviews about Green batch 42, trial F,” he said with a flourish, presenting it to Madi as she walked over with Harper. He was all set to go into a riveting speech about algae growth patterns and heat adjustments to create a palatable flavor, but the girl just grabbed the bowl and noisily gulped it down in five seconds flat. 

Harper and Monty looked at each other, speechless. Madi wiped her mouth off with the back of her arm, setting it down on the table. “Do you want me to clean the bowl, or?” She asked, looking around for some kind of bubbling stream. 

“Grounders in space,” muttered Harper in wonder, shaking her head slightly at Madi as she took the bowl from her. “You want seconds?”

Madi’s eyes widened and she nodded enthusiastically. Monty took the bowl from Harper, and while the love of his life kept an amused smirk on her face, her eyes told a different story. You either had to be starving, or have learned to not care about the taste of food to enjoy algae that much. It had been longer than a day since Madi had eaten a real meal. Much, much longer than a day. 

He spooned another serving in, his nose wrinkling at the moldy smell and cut his eyes over to the planet. The green spot was just edging out of view, and for the first time since it had become visible to Spacekru, it was starting to not look so bright and promising. 

The sound of Raven’s hitched gait made Monty look up as he walked back over with the full bowl. He set it down in front of Madi, and handed her a spoon with a stern look. She smiled up at him impishly, rolling her eyes and taking it from him, slurping up dainty little spoonfuls. 

“Thank you Monty,” she said, bits of green on her teeth. Her smile quickly disappearing at the sight of Raven, Emori, Echo and Murphy entering the control room.

Monty went to set more bowls out but Raven waved him off, approaching Madi’s seat. Monty could tell that Raven was doing her best to act natural around the strange young girl, but in the span of 12 hours they’d been boarded by enemy aircraft, discovered Clarke was not only alive (barely), but had a child (in a manner of speaking), and there was some kind of grave danger that awaited them if they managed to get down (surprise, surprise). 

Monty assumed the later is what jarred Raven the most. The fuel problem was in a sense solved, the transport ship they arrived in likely had more than enough fuel to get them where they needed to go, the question stood, should they go?

Raven pulled out one the chairs next to Madi, the girl setting her spoon down in the bowl as she swung it around, sitting on it backwards, folding her arms on top of the back of it and meeting the girls open gaze.

“Okay,” Raven said, reaching up to pull the ponytail tighter, “so, we met earlier in a way, but I wanted to introduce myself, I’m Raven Reyes.” Raven extended a hand to Madi, but she didn’t take it, just reached back to her spoon and slurped up another bite of the green stuff. Raven retracted her hand with a frown. 

“I know who you are,” Madi said as she swallowed, “you’re a zero-g mechanic, you went down to the ground in a cobbled together spacecraft, you blew up a bridge to save the hundred, you helped take down the mountain, you got Becca’s ship ready for take off, you,” 

“Got it!” Raven said tensely, looking around at the rest of them with frantic eyes, “I mean, Clarke told you a lot about us?”

“Mhmmm,” Madi responded. 

“So, seems fair that perhaps you could tell us a bit about yourself in return?” Raven prompted gently as she could, even as Harper placed a hand on Madi’s shoulder. 

“But only if you feel up to it Madi,” Harper said, glaring at Raven, “we understand if you don’t want to talk about it right away.”

“No,” Raven said shaking her head, “I’m sorry Madi, but we need some kind of information. You came up here for help right?” Madi slowly shook her head yes, staring into the bowl as she scraped the algae off the sides. 

“Great,” Raven straighten her back up, the ponytail swinging behind her, “whenever you’re ready.”

Madi glanced up at them, “my name is Madi. Clarke’s my mom. We lived in Shallow Valley. You all didn’t come back down, so we decided to come up.” 

Raven groaned in frustration, leaning her head on her clasped hands. 

“Can you tell us about Shaw?” Emori asked, “he’s claiming that he won’t talk until Clarke wakes up.”

Madi looked back over her shoulder at the planet. “I’ve only known Shaw for a couple days. He was with Clarke at the Eligius camp for the three months they had her. I only met him when he came to get me so we could save Clarke and take off.”

“They had her for three months?” Raven asked faintly. 

“You were alone for three months?” Harpers asked at the same time.

Madi looked up at both of the women, and shrugged. “I was on my own for longer than that when the radiation killed my village. And I was only six then. At least, Clarke thinks I was six. Birthdays are a sky people thing.”

“Can you tell us more about Eligius kid?” Murphy asked, running his hands through his hair. Madi just glared at him.

“We’re not learning anything of value until Clarke wakes up, are we?” Echo asked. She had stayed back from the group, leaning her shoulder against the entryway to the room. Monty saw some of the old spy creeping into her stance, it had been a couple years since she’d held herself that way. 

“The bunker door is trapped under forty stories of debris from Polis. Octavia is alive and in charge last time Clarke was able to get into radio contact with them, but that was months ago.” Madi licked the spoon clean, “how’s that for valuable information?” 

Echo starred at her impassively, nodded once and turned to leave, “I’ll check on Bellamy, Shaw said there are some medical supplies on the transport ship that can help Clarke recover more easily.”

The rest of Spacekru looked uneasily back at the young girl as she set her spoon down grinning up at Monty and shoving the bowl back toward him, “more?”


	5. Chapter 5

Year 2  
 **Bellamy. Since you’re not answering, I’m going to try and see if the bunker will. I almost broke my leg falling into an old fallout shelter when we were scouting some better soil. More on that later. But apart from not dying, Madi and I found a bunch of pre, pre, pre whatever radio equipment. I’m no Raven. But I have an idea on how to talk to the bunker. Sandstorm season is over. Madi wants to meet the girl under the floor. And I miss my mom.**

_Here’s the thing. You should never meet your heroes._

**Bellamy. We got in contact with the bunker. I wish we hadn’t. I wish. I wish. I should stop wishing.**

_When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Oh Wanheda. That’s not a star._

Year 6

Bellamy looked up from his vigil beside Clarke as Echo knocked softly against the room’s metal door frame. 

“How is she?” Echo asked, walking over to Bellamy’s side, sliding her hand around the back of his neck. He leaned into her palm, closing his eyes against the brewing headache.

“Considering she’s been dead for six years, pretty good,” he replied dryly, rubbing a hand over his eyes and down his beard. “That guy locked up?” He asked

“His name is Shaw, and he’s taken a vow of silence on what the hell happened until Clarke wakes up. The child seems to be of the same opinion,” Echo said, slowly kneading the muscles of his neck. 

Bellamy sighed, “we have no idea what her life was like, what she saw down there, what Eligius did to her and Clarke, I can’t blame the kid for deciding to keep her secrets to herself.”

“Bellamy, if we’re in danger,” Echo began, her hand slipping off him and crossing her body. 

“Space is dangerous Echo,” he said shaking his head, “the ground is dangerous. We’ve never not been in danger from something. Right now we do what we can to get Clarke better, and deal with the rest of it when she’s ready.”

Echo smirked, “always thinking with your head Bellamy,” she reached out to caress his cheek but the words felt like a slap in the face. Those were Clarke’s words, her last words. 

She frowned as he leaned away from her touch, her gaze drifting over to Clarke. Bellamy didn’t want to explain, he just slid down in the chair, watching Clarke’s breaths slip in and out. He felt raw, exposed. There was a well of panic at the edges of his skin. 

“She’s no longer a ghost anymore, is she?” Echo asked quietly. Bellamy looked up at her, those honey brown eyes that saw so much, that had calmed the storm in him these last few years. He shoved the pit of guilt down and stood up, wrapping her strong frame into his. 

“We’ll figure this out Echo, whatever happened to Clarke and Madi, we’ll figure it out together.”

Echo pulled back from his embrace, her face clouded. “Madi did say something of importance,” she said, and her careful stance set Bellamy’s heart in his throat. 

“Is it Octavia?” He asked, the question had been burning at the edges of him, but he hadn’t wanted to hear the worst from Clarke’s kid. 

“She’s alive,” Echo said quickly, “but they’re still in the bunker, the door is under too much rubble. Madi said they’d been able to stay in touch through some radio contact but wouldn’t say much else.”

Bellamy’s world tilted on its axis as he tripped back in the chair, “that’s,” Bellamy started, “thank you.” 

Echo nodded, but the frown lined her face still. 

“What is it Echo?” He asked, confused at her reticence. 

“I just wish I’d known,” she said hesitating, considering the words, “that yesterday was the last day it was just us.”

He looked up at her, “Echo, getting back down, that was always the plan.”

She smiled sadly at him, “Of course Bellamy, but up here, up here is the first time I’ve felt safe, and loved, and had a family of my choosing, and now,” her hand lifted up, “I suppose I just wish I knew that yesterday was the last day it would be as it was.”

“I understand Echo,” he said, and he did. As dangerous as living on a centuries old space station was, they all could appreciate the relative peace it gave them. But the world was roaring back at them now, breaking down the doors, literally. 

“No Bellamy,” Echo said, shaking her head and turning to leave the room, “I really don’t think you do.”

***  
Clarke had been asleep for three days. Luckily, Shaw hadn’t been lying about the medical and food supplies in the Gagarin transport ship. Harper nearly collapsed in relief at the stacks of clean gauze, suture kits, pain medication and antibiotics. Running off to Clarke’s bed she connected pouches to rehydrate her and drip calories into her veins. Murphy actually did cry at the sight of the freeze-dried jerky.

Bellamy was grateful for the food too, but the best part was that the medical supplies made it possible for them to hook Clarke’s vitals up to machines so Bellamy could watch the steady pulse without keeping his thumb on her wrist at all times. Not that he minded it, but he was falling asleep in that chair next to her bed, and slamming into wakefulness, terrified that he’d lost the pulse and she’d died. Now, he was confident that if anything went wrong, or if she woke up, he’d be alerted right away.

But the day she did open her eyes, he didn’t even notice right away. Madi must have gotten tired of the way he kept glancing between her and Clarke, and fidgeting whenever Harper came in to redress the bandages, so she finally threw a sketchbook out of her little backpack at him. It did the trick. He spent the hours sitting in the little room, on that terribly hard chair, engrossed in the world Clarke had drawn out on the pages. 

Some of the scenes he recognized. Murphy and Emori chained up in Becca’s lab. Jasper and Monty laughing at the drop ship. Lexa’s face both in war paint, and clear and young in a way he’d never seen the intimidating commander. Octavia surrounded by butterflies. Himself, sitting next to her by a tree, exhausted and heartbroken, and realizing neither of them had to do this alone. 

Others, he didn’t recognize at all. 

Madi as a very young child, all bird’s nest hair and sharp eyes. What he thought might be the remnants of her village before praimfaya, where she and Clarke had made a home. A sketch of their rocket going up, from Clarke’s view on that tower, the flames in the distance. 

The last few pages were of the Gagarin. Notes and descriptions of their weaponry, and counts of Clarke and Madi’s ammunition supplies. Sketches of faces he didn’t know, he assumed the people on that ship that Clarke was able to study before they’d captured her. There were pages ripped out here and there, and little scribbles of plants he didn’t recognize and dates and times scrawled in margins. Some of his favorite parts were just her lists, of Madi’s favorite songs, of stories she wanted to tell her when she was old enough, of images she wanted to paint. 

He traced the outline she’d made of the collapse of the tower over the bunker, wondering how Octavia was doing beneath the rubble when he felt the hair on his arms stand up. He glanced up from the book and straight into Clarke’s bright blue eyes. For a moment he didn’t move, just stared back at her wide gaze, so filled with fear that his own heart thudded in response, wondering if she knew of some threat about to charge through the door. 

It was only when he started to stand up, her name on his lips and she shrunk back against the bed so hard he saw the pain reverberate through her, that he realized that there was something terrifying in the room, him. 

“Clarke?” he whispered, “you’re okay, you’re on the ring, do remember?”

She said nothing in return, the monitor by her side starting to beep frantically. He took another step forward. “Madi’s okay, she’s with Raven in the control room right now, I can call her, do you want me to call her?”

Her eyes widened at the mention of Madi’s name, but other than that she refused to answer. Her hands were clenched in fists, one of them grasped around the other, over her father’s watch that Madi had slipped on that first day. She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and back open several times. 

He was almost at the bed, but afraid to come any closer. “You’re safe Clarke, please, I’m not,” he stopped, at a loss for how to comfort her when she shrank from him, “you don’t have to be afraid.” His voice broke a little at the end, because it wasn’t really true. He had no idea what Clarke knew to be afraid of. 

Her eyes briefly left him to roam the little room, dropping to her own arms, wrapped up in clean, white bandages. Her focus settled back on Bellamy, she swallowed hard and it sounded like she was humming to herself, but it turned into a hacking cough as she doubled over at the waist. 

The spams wracked her body and Bellamy abandoned the place by the end of the bed, grabbing a cup of water for her and pressing it into her palm. 

She turned her head up from where she’d hunched over as the coughing fit settled, and now their faces were only inches from each other. The fear he’d seen in her eyes returned but he saw yearning too. He saw determination. Slowly, trembling, she lifted the hand up that he hadn’t caught in his own. 

She cupped his face gently, the fingers ghosting his cheek, running up to his eyes, tugging on a lock of hair that had fallen into his face as he’d rushed to her. She held him there, with all the weight of six years of grief. 

“Be real,” she said, her voice brittle, closing her eyes, “please be real.”

He brought his other hand up, to hold hers against his face, “I’m real Clarke. I’m real. I’m here.”

She opened her eyes, and he watched the pupils retract at the bright light, “Bellamy?” She asked hesitantly.

He smiled shakily, “welcome back to the ring Princess.”

The fear that seemed to line her face melted away, and she dropped the cup of water to the ground bringing her arms around his neck. Her lips near his ears, “thanks for opening the door Bellamy.” 

“Thank you for saving our lives,” he replied, tightening his arms around her as much as he dared, letting the drum beat of his heart match the one that lit up the monitor beside her. Proof that she was alive. Proof that for all the ground had taken from him, it had finally given him something back. 

“Madi,” she half murmured into his hair, pulling away again as she looked around the room, “where’s Madi?”

“I can get her, she’s okay, she’s amazing actually, she’s driving us nuts.”

“Please, please I need to,” her voice cracked and she grasped at her throat and alarm shot through him, was she okay? He’d assumed that if she’d woken up she was okay.

“I’ll get Harper, she’s” he started getting off the bed but Clarke’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm, her grip frighteningly strong. The long hair that they hadn’t been able to wash for her yet sweeping into her frantic eyes. 

“No,” she rasped out, “get my daughter Bellamy. Now.” 

Bellamy must have paused a moment too long in surprise at the force of her. But she started to cough again and turned to grab the cup that had fallen to the floor, and that’s when she started crying. 

“Get Madi, I need to see her,” she sobbed and to his horror she started to try and pull the blankets off and shift her frame to get out of the bed. And now he was panicking because where do you grab the girl that’s been tortured for months on end?

Luckily, Madi chose that moment to appear in the doorway, “Mom?” she said, her question wavering on the same dredges of fear he’d heard from Clarke. 

Clarke’s head shot up from her clumsy grabbing at the blankets around her legs. The two paused, staring at each other and then suddenly Madi was wrapped around her before he could warn the child to be careful. 

He should have known there was nothing he could say to hold her off. Wracked sobs filled the room and Bellamy slowly backed out of the room, knowing he was witnessing something private. Clarke’s hands were buried in the girls thick dark hair, soothing her back as she rocked her slowly. 

He closed the door for them, and slide down the side of the wall. A shadow to his right made him turn and look. Raven. 

“She’s awake?” She asked, and Bellamy could only nod, the adrenaline that had been rushing through his system finally draining out. The pounding headache chasing it. 

“They, needed a moment,” he said, “but maybe you could get everyone else?”

“Okay,” Raven said, turning to walk toward Harper and Monty’s room. “Hey Bellamy?”

“Yeah?” 

“It’s nice to see your face again,” she said quietly.

His hands went to his bare jawline, almost forgetting that he’d shaved that morning. It was like he’d known, that she’d wake up today. As though today was the day he needed to look like the Bellamy that Clarke would remember.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm neither a botanist or a radiation expert. Take the below with a big grain of fiction, and enjoy.

Year 4  
**Bellamy. I know I call you every day. But today is special. It’s been four years since you left. One more year to go. I worry that I’m failing you. I worry that I’m messing it up. I know that if Monty was down here he’d find a way to grow things right. If you were here you could get through to Octavia. It all just comes up wrong for me.**

_Wrong. Right. Eat that gray area._

**Anyway. We’re going back to the bunker tomorrow. I’m hoping Kara Cooper has some more ideas. It’s not like Madi and I can resort to the bunker’s plan B for crop failure.**

_There’s something foul in the air. Stop hiding from it Wanheda._

Year 6  
“Oh my,” Bellamy watched Clarke breathe out as the people she’d saved that day on the radio tower circled around her. 

Monty was beaming, tears streaming down his face, Harper’s was filled with relief. 

Raven had a wrench and a thick ream of instruction manuals grasped in both hands, clenching them so tightly her fingers were turning white. She’d been showing Madi all the different components of their comm system. Pointing out where along the panels the years of solar radiation and the damage from the ark breaking off had irreparably destroyed their ability to get a signal from the ground. 

Watching her face fall as she finally accepted that they hadn’t received any calls from them broke Raven’s heart. Madi had a way of doing that. She’d run off back to Clarke’s bedside and it wasn’t until Raven heard screaming that she’d bolted after her and found Bellamy sitting outside the room. 

Murphy had a permanent scowl on his face as he stood over Clarke, the only one of them touching her, hands resting on her feet. Bellamy stood behind the semicircle of them. He’d stepped back as they’d all dashed in. Madi was still wrapped around her, her face buried in her side, Clarke’s hands softly braiding her hair. 

Echo and Emori stood as a pair near the door, both looking as nervous as the day they’d made it onto the ship. 

“Can someone say something,” Clarke said softly, her eyes wide.

“Thank you,” Raven blurted out, “I, I wanted to say that to you so much and, thank you for savings us, I’m so sorry I left you behind,”

“I tried to radio,” Clarke said, her face confused, “I told you to go. It was the only way, didn’t Madi tell you?”

“I did too,” Madi’s muffled voice came from Clarke’s shoulder. 

A nervous laugh went through the group, “we’ve had a lot of conversations about bad radio signals,” Raven said. 

“She loves the algae,” Monty said, “Madi, I mean, it’s been great for my self-esteem really.”

Clarke smiled sadly, “well, it’s fresh,” she said, looking down at her daughter, missing how the smile slipped off Monty’s face. 

“How are you feeling Clarke,” Harper said finally, “we did the best we could but,” she trailed off.

“The best you could considering the shit show I pulled up in?” Clarke asked lightly, “I feel better than I have in months, you did great Harper.”

“Clarke, speaking of how you showed up,” Murphy said, “our prisoner hasn’t been very forthcoming, Madi either, about what happened.”

“Prisoner?” Clarke asked, her face confused, “what prisoner?”

“Shaw,” Echo spoke up from the door, “we have him locked up.”

“Why?” Clarke said, looking back down at Madi, “what did you tell them natblida?”

“He said he was responsible,” Madi said, her voice muted, “for what happened,” she turned her face up to Clarke, her eyes red and puffy. 

Clarke sighed, “not like that though. Look you all have questions, and I’m going to answer them all, the best I can, but I need to see Shaw. Clarke moved to get out of the bed, freezing as seven pairs of hands rushed at her. “Okay,” she said, letting the blanket fall back on top of her. “How about, I stay here, and you bring him to me?” 

“You trust him Clarke?” Bellamy asked.

She stared back at him impassively, “I wouldn't have made it up here without him.”

“He’s kind of an asshole,” Raven said looking down at her wrench. 

“Oh, all the best ones are,” she replied with a half smile, cutting a look to Murphy. “I missed you too Murphy.”

A shaky laugh went through the group, one Bellamy didn’t share in. This Clarke, he was trying to square her up with the Clarke in his head and the edges weren’t matching. It scared him, and made him angry at himself. Of course she changed. It had been six years. They’d all changed.

“We’ll go get him,” Echo said as she and Emori turned to leave, “and Clarke,” Echo said, turning back to her, her face softening, “thank you, truly, thank you.” 

Clarke opened her mouth to wave her off, but stopped when she saw the need in Echo’s expression. The need to show what it had meant. “You’re welcome,” she she finally, the words seemed to release some kind of burden from the woman. They were swiftly out the door before another odd look could pass between them.

“I think you broke the grounders Clarke,” Murphy said, rotating around her bed, sliding a finger across the bandage on her throat. “Want to tell us what happened here?”

“Later,” Clarke said, distractedly, “I’m starving actually, Monty, can I have some of that famous algae?” 

“Yeah!” Monty said brightly, seeming to forget which way to go for a moment, finally racing out the door in the direction of the lab with a gentle push from Harper. 

“Clarke, once you’re ready Raven and I, we can help you take a shower, if you’d like,” Harper said.

“Yeah, Harper, that would be amazing but,” Clarke tugged at her matted bloody mane. “I think it’s a cut job for me.”

“I can help,” Raven said, “I cut everyone’s hair up here.”

“Okay then,” Clarke said. She looked ready to say something else but Echo, Emori and Shaw returned, stepping through the door. 

The moment Shaw saw Clarke he tilted to one side, the relief flooding his body. “Jesus Jasper,” he muttered, and Bellamy saw Harper flinch at the use of the name.

“Jasper?” Harper said looking back to the door to make sure Monty hadn’t returned yet. 

“Long story,” Clarke said quickly, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, your kid is an absolute nightmare though,” he said, walked to her and lifting a strand of hair off her neck to inspect the stitches, “I can tell where she got that mouth of hers.” 

Bellamy had to work hard to keep his feet planted. If Clarke wasn’t worried about Shaw, he shouldn’t be. But Madi had told them he was the reason she was hurt, why she was tortured, and it ticked him off that Clarke would trust him after that.

“She’s twelve. Pull it together soldier,” Clarke said mockingly. She reached up to touch his face the way she had touched Bellamy’s, but without fear in her eyes, and he felt a hot bit of jealousy slide through him. 

Shaw sighed, “thanks for staying alive Clarke. I wish I had figured it out quicker.”

“Figured what out quicker?” Murphy asked quickly, but at that moment Monty strode in, the bowl of soup held high as a prize.

“Oh,” he said, lowering it as he felt the tension in the room. Shaw backed away and sat on the bed next to Clarke. 

“Gimme,” Clarke said and Madi scooted up to sit against the pillow with her mom. Monty handed her the bowl, and Space Kru looked on with horror and she took a big gulp, and smiled. 

“Okay, this is god damn enough,” Murphy said stepping forward. Clarke looked up, surprised.

“What’s enough?” She asked, taking another sip from the bowl.

“That!” Murphy said, his hands in the air, “no one likes that crap, it’s not food, it’s survival. It tastes like shit.”

“Hey!” Monty said angrily.

“Babe,” Harper said, her hand on his arm, shaking her head, “don’t fight the truth.”

“Exactly!” Murphy said, “so,” and he rounded back on Clarke and Madi, “tell us why you two can’t get enough of it, did praimfaya mess up your tastes buds or something?”

Bellamy watched Clarke and Madi look at each other, a silent bit of conversation the rest of them were not privy to. 

“Oh,” Shaw said, “they don’t know do they?”

“What don’t we know?” Bellamy asked, not liking how the color dropped off of Clarke’s face.

She sighed, letting the spoon fall back into the bowl, “not exactly how I wanted the first bit of this to go, but” she looked up at them, squinting as though she was trying to focus on something, until her eyes found him and relaxed. “Shallow Valley, that last green spot on Earth you’ve probably been looking at for six years, the reason it stayed that way, besides the fact that the flames leapt over it, is a deep aquifer beneath the ground, it feeds the streams, keeps everything green and growing but-”

“But the radiation,” Monty said, his voice shaky, “it filtered down to the aquifer, didn’t it?”

“What does that mean?” Bellamy asked, his heart rate ticking up as Clarke moved her hand to her father’s watch, twisting it around her thin wrist. 

“I’m sorry Monty,” Clarke’s smile twisted sadly, “It was good, for a few years. You would’ve liked it. We made it work, grew enough to survive on, but by the time year four hit, the food started making us sick.”

“Sick how?” Monty said, stepping forward, panic visible in his stance.

“Throwing it up all the time, what we could keep down for the calories left us feeling dizzy,” Clarke said, staring at Bellamy as she spoke. “My vision was really taking a downturn, hair was falling out again like it did right after the death wave, I swear, I could feel the cancer growing.”

“But Clarke, shouldn’t the nightblood have filtered out the repercussions of the radiation?” Raven asked, “isn’t that why Becca engineered it?”

Clarke shrugged, “everything has a threshold Raven, I got to discover what nightblood’s was. I started running some tests on myself in what remained of Becca’s lab. It’s just too much. It can’t catch up. The radiation levels in the air may be fine now, but the water, the food, it’s not survivable. It’s too concentrated. If it can kill Madi and I, it will take you down even quicker.”

“How long you been surviving like this?” Bellamy asked, shifting his weight back and forth, taking in the sharp angles of her face, the horror of it coming into stark clarity.

“We tried everything we could think of. Planted in hundreds of different spots, tried filtering the water through nightblood. Before she died Kara Cooper was having me try idea after idea after idea. Nothing worked, every crop just failed or came up strange. Like the jobi nuts but the effects weren’t so...fun.” Clarke ran her hands through Madi’s hair, “so I switched Madi to just eating the stores her people had made. It’s why she loves the algae so much, she hasn’t had fresh food in a couple years, it’s all preserved. It won’t make you sick but, tastes like dust.”

“But you didn’t,” Bellamy said tightly, “you kept eating the crops even though it was killing you.”

Clarke shrugged, “when I realized the extent of the problem I thought it was just a waiting game. Wait it out until you came back and Monty and Raven would be brilliant and solve it. It gets hard to think down there, I” she paused, looking up, “well, I thought I just need to last long enough for you to come back,” finished uneasily. 

“But we didn’t come back,” Raven whispered.

Clarke smirked, “no you didn’t,” she turned to look at Shaw, “someone else did.”

Shaw sighed, placing a hand on Clarke’s head, “the welcoming committee left something to be desired.”

“Great, so the Earth is crap,” Murphy said darkly, “tell us something we don’t know. But that still doesn’t explain how you ended up like this,” he waved a hand at her indicating the injuries. “Bad food doesn't put a metal collar around your neck.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Clarke said quietly, taking a deep breath. “That’s because Eligius isn’t down there trying to make a life in the Valley. We don’t need to fight them for it, because we shouldn’t want to live in it either. It doesn’t want us.”

“So what are they doing there?” Bellamy asked.

“It’s the reason they had me. Their leader, McCreary, he’s trying to find coordinates to a new planet. He believed I knew where they were at, and jokes on him, because I do.”

“A new planet?” Raven asked faintly. 

“Sorry kids,” Clarke said, looking away from Bellamy and stroking Madi’s hair. “We’re not going back to Earth to stay, we’re going back to fight for the chance to leave it for good.”


	7. Chapter 7

Year 5  
**Bellamy, today is the day. I’m looking up. We’re waiting for you to come home.**

_What kind of person would want to come home to you? Who could want this world with you?_

**Bellamy, I made Madi go to bed. I’m trying really hard here. I’m trying to not give up. But you’re not making it easy, standing me up like this. Should I wait up? Should I? Still giving me the silent treatment? You know. Maybe that’s for the best.**

_Oh, lovely. Maybe you’ll stop pretending to ignore me. Wouldn’t that be more fun for the both of us?_

Year 6  
Raven’s wrench clattered to the ground, as Clarke took in their shocked faces. She sighed.

“Madi,” she said, “I’m going to tell them, and I don’t want you to listen.”

“No!” Madi sat up, “I’m not a baby anymore Clarke, I helped rescue you too, Shaw didn’t even know how to blow up their weapons cache, that fireball was all me. I got everyone out of the ship, and I could have killed McCreary too if he," she pointed behind her at Shaw, "hadn’t stopped me.”

“Seriously!” Shaw sat up, “he was going to shoot you kid, you should be thanking me.”

Madi was climbing out of Clarke’s bed, “where’s that collar, I’m gonna zap you, I’m gonna,”

“Madi!” Clarke’s voice cracked in the space, “we don’t hurt people. We don’t do that. We-” Clarke stopped, and looked around the shocked faces, “shit.” She turned back to her daughter. “Madi, I know you’re not a kid anymore, and that’s why you understand that there’s no need to add to your nightmares. Please, for my sake, I don’t want you to hear this.”

He watched Madi’s face set in an expression so reminiscent of Clarke it set his ears ringing. Clarke matched it with her own, and finally Madi relented with a scowl, placing a kiss on Clarke’s cheek, whispering a word in her ear, before leaving the room, and slamming the door behind her.

“Clarke?” Bellamy said hesitantly, trying to not look like he wanted to follow Madi out the door. He didn't want Clarke's story in his mind. It was already filled with images of her burning in Primfaya - if there was worse, he didn't want to know, and yet, nothing could move him from this room now. 

Clarke took a deep breath. “Look, when Eligius landed we ran. Hid in some caves on the far south side of the valley. But I snuck back in and placed radios everywhere I could. For two weeks all we did was listen to their conversations. At first I just wanted to steal their transport ship, get up to see if you were alive. If you all were alive,” she added quickly. “I was so ready for a life of algae, you have no idea,” she said darkly. 

“So what changed?” Bellamy asked, crossing his arms so tightly he could feel the knots pulling at his back. 

“Their leader, McCreary, he liked to talk, a lot, and I figured out another option. I figured out a way to have a life for Madi that wasn’t just being stuck in a tin can in space.”

“You weren’t captured,” Bellamy said, the realization dawning on him, “you walked into their camp.”

Clarke nodded, “it’s not an easy story, and there are a lot of holes, those collars really mess with your memory and that’s on top of,” she stopped, looked down at her hands.

Spacekru shifted uneasily in their stances. Finally Murphy went out and grabbed chairs from the control room, setting them down around Clarke’s bed. “Okay bard, tell us your tale of woe.” 

Clarke smiled at him shakily, “once upon a time, there was a Princess locked away in a dungeon…”

***  
Leaving Madi in that cave was the hardest thing she’d ever done, including telling Bellamy to go ahead and take off all those years ago. 

She could see them up ahead. People. People that weren’t just tiny voices on an old radio. People that smelled and loomed and could stare. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be watched. Madi’s gaze felt like a friend. These eyes were hungry. 

She walked slowly, her hands raised high to show that she was unarmed. The men and women had that look about them, a look she remembered from the hundred. Nothing had been given to these men and women, they had literally taken it from the grasps of others. Prisoners that had killed their jailers. What the hundred might have been, given an extra decade and a few more gouges from their souls before they’d landed.

“That’s far enough,” a voice called out, the owner of it charging forward to the front of the heavily armed group. Clarke said nothing, but kept her hands raised and stood still. She was one person in front of a group of at least fifty. About thirty feet away from them in the clearing they had landed with the a transport, the word ‘Gagarin’ stamped on the side. Scorched marks from entering the earth’s atmosphere still smoldering at the edges of the behemoth as the people milled about the entrance.

It was so...other. After six years of seeing no person other than Madi. Of seeing nothing but nature in all its terrifying and beautiful shades. Of hearing only the sounds that come from a child playing and the wind howling and, sometimes something else. She took a step back, just to stop the glare from the sun ricocheting off the metal.

“I’m guessing you’re the one responsible for the traps that killed four of my men?” The voice from the radio, the one calling the shots. Clarke lowered one of her hands to shade her face, squinting as the person came forward. McCreary. 

Tall build. Greasy hair. A face that would have been handsome, if not for, well, if not for what Clarke already knew about him. 

“I asked you a question,” McCreary said again, coming in closer until he was only a foot away from her. He looked her up and down. She wondered if she was much to look at anymore. Clarke slowly lowered her hands until they rested causally by her side. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh air. 

She felt McCreary take another step toward her and she opened her eyes to stare into his fathomless ones. “You have a name sweetheart?” he asked, his breath sour on her face. 

Clarke smirked, “you don’t need a name when you’re the last person on earth,” she said, enjoying the way his eyes widened, enjoying putting him off balance. 

“So she speaks,” he said, releasing the safety on his gun and bringing it up to her head. “How about you tell me why I shouldn’t kill you for what you’ve already done.”

Clarke leaned into the muzzle, the cold metal of it echoing back to a sand dune and a bird pecking at her arm. “Level thirteen is a strange place to be, isn’t it Cadogan?” 

His sharp intake of breath was the last thing she heard, before he swung the gun at her head, and the world went black.

***  
She awoke in a little cell, sitting on a cold metal chair. Her ankles were tied to the legs of it, her wrists cuffed behind her, the ties looped around the bars of the back of the chair. She was still in her own clothes, but her long hair was clipped up, her neck bare. There was blood in her mouth and at the sudden realization she spit it out onto the metal ground. So, she was on their ship. Excellent.

“She’s awake,” a voice said, and she looked up as a figure moved into view on the other side of the bars. It wasn’t a door that jailed her in, but close rows of bars that looked out onto a narrow hallway. She could hear people at the end of it, going about their jobs on a ship, in a valley, on the last spot on planet Earth that wasn’t a complete shit show, quite yet.

Static responded and she saw that it wasn’t McCreary in front of her, but another man. He was darker, younger, his eyes watchful and reserved. “No, she hasn’t said anything but she has a scar on the back of her neck, like you said, and her blood is black,” the man talked into the radio. 

Clarke wished she could make out what McCreary was saying back, but there was a ringing in her ears. Concussion probably. 

“Is this a good idea sir? This is probably the only person that could tell us what happened.” The man said, his tone clipped and short. The static in the radio burst out angry and he hung his head. “No, no, yes, I understand.” He clipped the radio to his belt and sighed, and turned his frame toward Clarke.

“Did you really have to piss him off? That was your first move?” He asked, hands on his hips. Clarke’s vision blurred a little, and she shook her head trying to get it back in focus. It reminded her that the same thing would happen to Madi when the storehouse ran out, which was the whole reason she had put herself in this situation. It was time to work.

“Can I please have some water?” She asked, trying to catch the guard’s eyes. 

“So she does speak,” he grumbled, but to her relief he grabbed a bottle from a small table and opened the door to her room. The gears shifting back in the lock as he passed a key card in front of a metal plate. He closed it behind him, walking up to her and placing the mouth of the bottle against her lips. She tilted her head back and let it pour down her throat and wash away the blood that had filled it.

“Thank you,” she said as he took the bottle away, letting her voice hang in the unanswered question.

“Shaw, everyone calls me Shaw,” he said stepping back and twisting the cap on. “I don’t suppose you want to tell us your name.”

“Thank you for the water Shaw,” she said instead, “welcome back to Earth by the way.”

He blinked. A twist of a smile at the edge of his lips. “You’ve done a shit job at housekeeping.”

Clarke shrugged, “I got busy with not dying, keeping the sand out of the house took a back seat.”

Shaw nodded, “any chance you want to tell us how the world ended?”

“Any chance you want to tell me why you don’t already know?” She replied. 

He paused, “I shouldn’t be talking to you at all.”

“I think you’re doing exactly what you’ve been asked to,” Clarke said, “they want you to get me talking, don’t they? Little prisoners watching the screens from the cameras in this room.”

“How did you know that they’re prisoners?”.

“I can read dumbass,”Clarke said, rolling her neck and her vision finally snapped back into focus. “Prisoner Transport Ship. Eligius IV. It’s stamped on the hull. And from the ill fitting gear everyone but you is sporting, I’d say the prisoners are in charge, and they took you along for the ride. So you must be important.”

Something close to respect appeared in his eyes. Good. “You seem to already know a lot about us, how about you tell me something about you,” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

Clarke tilted her head. “How about you tell me why you don’t know how the planet died instead.”

Shaw sighed, and looked up into the corner of the room, where a little blinking light stared back. “We were on a mining mission. It was only supposed to take couple decades but, we ran into some problems.”

“So either you have excellent plastic surgeons, or…” Clarke dropped off, knowing the piece she needed was just at the other end.

“Cryo Chambers,” Shaw supplied.

“Creepy, but cool. So, the little mining mission went haywire, the help rebelled. Pretty epic story Shaw, good job on staying alive.”

“Yeah yeah,” he replied, annoyed at her now. He should be, this interrogation was going exactly how she wanted it to. “Now tell me something. I had family when I left, a little sister, a mom, a motorcycle. I want to know how it ended for them.” He stepped closer to her and she saw the loss in his shoulders. The curve to them, the anger. 

“The first time, nuclear weapons. The second time, the breakdown of the plants that made them.” Shaw took a step back in disbelief. 

“But, but people survived, otherwise how could you be here?” He asked, and there was something so genuine in his curiosity that Clarke felt an odd pull to tell her story. He’d never believe it. She was beginning to not believe it.

A voice cut through on the radio, “Shaw, McCreary is on his way.”

“Tell me something Shaw, what does McCreary think he’s going to get from me?” Clarke asked, trying to distract him from the radio as he unclipped it from his belt.

“Copy that,” Shaw said into the radio, his eyes on her. “What did you say to him that made him clock you over the head?”

“I called him by his real name.”

“And how would you know his real name?” He asked in disbelief. 

Clarke rolled her eyes, “you guys have been here for two weeks, you think I haven’t been listening?”

There were steps in the hallway now, McCreary was coming for her. Shaw leaned down close to her face, the little blinking light in the corner of the room wouldn’t be able to pick up what he said. “Is someone else listening out there?”

“Just a dying planet,” she replied, leaning back in the chair. “But I’m warning you, she’s a real piece of work. We have that in common.”

“You’re crazy,” Shaw replied, backing away from her now. 

“Most likely,” Clarke said, nodding her head, and wincing at the ache. “But I chained up someone once too. And in the end we became pretty good friends. Or allies. I have hopes for us yet Shaw.” She smiled then at the confusion filling his face, even as McCreary approached the door, swiping his own key card to open it. 

“Out,” McCreary said.

Shaw slipped out of the room and walked down the hallway, turning his head back to look at them a few times as he went. Clarke ignored McCreary’s swaggering walk to her chair. She’d known people like him, they were uninteresting. Shaw though. He was smart, like Raven. She could make this work if she played it right. 

The door clanged shut. Clarke took a breath, and smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

5 Years. 6 Months.  
 **Bellamy. Wait, no. Yes. Bellamy. I’m heading to the Bunker again. I need to talk to my mom. I need. I. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how not to.**

_Yes you do. You just don’t like the answer._

**Bellamy, if you’re not here. Who will forgive me?**

_Silly commander. Death doesn’t need forgiveness._

Clarke and McCreary stared at each other for a moment. He held a box in one hand, it was wood, like a ring box her mother had on the dresser in their room on the ark. The ring was gone, it was the box itself, remnants of a tree, that was the most precious thing. In his other hand, a metal collar that he set on the small table beside her. 

“Tell me something, does turning oneself into a popsicle give you brain damage?” Clarke asked.

McCreary snarled, stepping in close to her, “shut up.”

“I thought you wanted me to talk?” Clarke said, widening her eyes, feigning innocence. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been alone for so long, was that rude of me?”

“I want you to tell me how you know the name Cadogan, and what you know about level thirteen.” McCreary said, looming over her.

“I’d rather not.”

“I think you do,” he said, stepping closer in, “I think you could have stayed in that forest for months without us finding you. You walked out for a reason. You want off this planet just as much as I do.”

“No, no, I was just scared at first about seeing so many people, it’s been so long since I wasn’t alone and I, I,” she made her voice go higher, her words faster, “I saw your big guns and I got scared that if you found me you’d hurt me and I thought that if I came in peace you’d be nice.” She let a few tears leak out, thinking for a moment about Wells to make them come quickly. Sniffing she looked up at him. 

“Liar!” He screamed at her and she saw the desperation written on his face, “you know who my father was! Tell me how you know that!” 

“It was just a story!” she yelled back, letting herself recoil in the chair, “it was just a story my mom told me about a man named Cadogan who was going to save us all, her mom told her the same story, it’s just a fairy tale, I didn’t think it was real. But then I saw the name on the ship and I wanted you to think I was important, so, so you wouldn’t hurt me!”

“You’re lying,” McCreary said, breathing hard, pacing around her chair now, the cool air brushing against the exposed part of her neck. She felt his fingers brush the scar there and she shivered.   
“You’ve had an AI in you. You know more than you’re letting on.”

“I fell out of a tree,” Clarke replied.

“That black blood tells a different story,” he said, his hands trailing her cut from where he’d hit her with the gun. “Tell me where the bunker is,” McCreary said, coming back around to face her. “You mentioned level thirteen, you must know where it is. The asshole may be long dead but he can still be useful, just like you.”

“You think I would have stayed in this rotting valley if I knew about a viable bunker? And my blood has always been black,” she muttered just in time for his hand to whip her head back, smacking the chair with a sickening crack. She couldn’t help the cry that escaped her lips.

“Then how do you know about level thirteen?” he asked, his voice calm again. Clarke was breathing heavily, her head pounding. 

“Level thirteen means sanctuary,” she replied haltingly, “that’s all I remembered from the story, that and the name Cadogan. I don’t know anything about a bunker. I’ve lived in this valley my entire life, and then six years ago everyone I ever knew got sick and died. I was the only one with nightblood in my village, so I’m the only one that survived, because this is the ONLY place to survive, if you don’t mind your insides rotting while you do it.”

“I don’t believe you,” McCreary said, “but I think we might have a way of sparking your memory,” he picked up the metal collar and held it out in front of her, snapping it around her neck before she could even rear back.

“Take this off of me,” she said. The collar didn’t restrict her breathing, but only just. It was cold, and smelled metallic. 

“No,” McCreary said, taking a little fob out of the box, and pressed the button.

The electricity rocketed through her. It made everything go white. She couldn't have screamed even if she wanted to, her muscles locking up tight, her eyes held open as she spasmed. She wasn’t a person. She was a lighting bolt, and then. Nothing. The pain stopped as quickly as it had come. Her breath coming out in tiny gasps. 

“Listen closely sweetheart,” McCreary said, leaning over her. She could do nothing but listen, nothing but focus on her breaths and his words. “I’m a terrific liar myself. You don’t con your way onto a ship like Eligius and convince the pilot and hot shot prisoners to turn mutiny without some skill. So I know when someone is trying to pull one over on me.” 

He stood back up. Clarke’s head was lolling to the side, resting on the edge of the collar, her eyes tracking him. “You probably don’t believe this, but I'm inclined to respect anyone that can make it on their own in a place like this. Good on you. But I’m not going to rot here. Not like you. This is just a pit stop to switch out a map, and be on our way to a better world. One where we make the rules. You help us, you can come with. This can be a rescue mission as well. It’s up to you.” 

“A new world?” Clarke managed to bite out, her jaw still tense.

“That’s right,” he reached over, pulling a lock of hair out of her eyes, his hand trailing down her side as she flinched away from the touch. “You can either be in pain, or you can tell me what I want to know and join the fun. Which do you prefer?”

Clarke opened her mouth, trying to say the words, letting the tears cascade down her face, McCreary wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulling it toward his ear, “speak up.”

Clarke turned her head, ever so slightly, and bit down on his jawline, tearing the skin away as he bellowed and kicked her chair. She fell to the ground, spitting out his flesh. She was laughing as he began to kick her, ribs cracking, bones snapping, the collar rolling out waves of electricity until the door opened and Shaw rushed in pulling him away. 

“Cadogan!” she screamed, and he turned back to her as Shaw pulled him out the barred door, slamming it shut, “you’re not getting in that bunker, you’re not getting those coordinates, you’re not going to that new world because you don’t fucking deserve it!”

“And you do?” he screamed back at her, shoving Shaw away, his hands wrapped around the bars, staring down at her on the ground, blood streaming down his chin. 

“Humanity failed,” Clarke said, softly now as the darkness edged toward her vision, “I’m not spreading this sickness into the stars.”

“What’s your name?” she heard him yelling as she faded into unconsciousness.

“Call me Jasper,” she said, her lips moving against the bloody floor, “he’d enjoy that.”

***

She came back to herself slowly. Her dreams had been all murky and stretched. She’d dreamed of Bellamy. Of walking in the woods before Praimfaya. Of Madi curled up next to her when it got cold. The heavy warmth reassuring. There was nothing reassuring now.

Instead there was a bright light shining in her eyes. She snapped her head away from it and a wave of nausea greeted her as she rolled over to heave up the contents on the floor. 

“Hold up, easy, easy,” a voice said, there were hands gently laid on her back, even as the collar chafed against her skin. Shaw, the voice was from Shaw. She groaned as the pain that had been held at bay by unconsciousness roared back and she heaved up more black blood. 

“Gross,” she said, staring at the floor until the dizziness passed. 

“Yup,” he said, pulling her back down against the bed. “How are you feeling?” 

Clarke did an inventory. Definitely cracked ribs. One of her wrists was in a cast, so that was broken. Bruised, all the bruises. She traced her tongue along her teeth. Still the only thing missing there was the one in the back, so there was her morale boost. She brought the hand that wasn’t in a cast up to pull at the collar and when she pulled her fingers away, they were covered in blood.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. 

“It’s going to get infected.” 

“Now, why would someone who doesn’t care if she dies on this planet worry about infection?” he asked, a wry smile on a very serious face.

“Why would a guy treat the person standing in his way of getting to a new planet with compassion?” She asked in return. 

“I’ve been known to make strange choices,” he said evenly, turning away from her and grabbing the little button to the collar. “And now that you’re awake, we’re going back to your cell.”

“Would you really use that on me Shaw?” she asked sweetly.

“I’ve done worse things,” he said, helping her up and letting her hold onto his arm as she shuffled out the ship’s little med bay doors. 

“Trust me Shaw,” she said, every breath a stab, “no matter what your worst thing is, I’ll have you beat a thousand times over.”

“He’s going to keep hurting you,” Shaw said lightly, slowing so she could catch her breath, “he needs to know where the bunker is so he can get in and find the coordinates to the planet Eligius III was heading to.”

“I’m aware of what he wants,” Clarke said. “But he’s going to keep hurting me even if I tell him because he’s the type of guy that enjoys hurting people.”

“And what type of guy am I?” Shaw asked, turning to watch her wince as they walked along. “Since I'm letting him do this to you?”

Clarke stopped, feeling her stomach rumble in hunger. She wondered if Madi was eating enough. “You’re the type of guy that hasn’t figured out that I’m right.”

Shaw stayed silent until they reached Clarke’s cell. “You want to know what kind of person I think you are?”

“By all means, it’s been a long time since someone gave me constructive feedback on my personality,” Clarke said, sitting back down on the chair, letting Shaw tie her up again. 

“I think this whole, ‘sparing the world the disease of humanity’ is a crock of shit,” he said. “I think the only reason you’re not telling McCreary where the bunker is, is because you’re protecting who’s in it.”

Clarke snorted, “okay, that’s cute. How about this. If there was a bunker, a safe place where my food wasn’t rotting with radiation, and people to share it with, why am I not with them?” 

Shaw glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, “because you’re the hero?” He asked it as a question, and a part of her cracked at the idea that someone other than Madi could think her a hero. Could think her anything other than a spectre of death.

“That’s your problem Shaw,” she said, “you see heroes where there are only villains, no wonder you fell for McCreary’s story.”

He sighed, turning back toward her as he opened the door. “Your name isn’t really Jasper, is it?” He asked.

Clarke straightened her back, stared ahead. She wouldn’t let him see the echoing steps in the hallway shake her. Shaw frowned, and she glanced over to see something like recognition appearing in his eyes as McCreary stepped through, the door shut behind him, he held up the trigger, and hit the button.


	9. Chapter 9

5 Years. 10 Months.  
**Bellamy. You didn’t come home. I’m so happy you didn’t come home. Never, ever, come home. Soon. We won’t be here either.**

_Good job. You’ve let the ones below us go. Now let the ones above. Set the radio down and stop pretending. Find a nice spot. Choose wisely. It’s the last impossible choice you’ll have to make._

Year 6  
Clarke snapped back to reality. Shaw was leaning over her again, dabbing her face with a cloth. She smelled bile and looked down at her arm. She’d thrown up again. Were they feeding her and she couldn’t remember? 

“Are you the doctor?” She groaned, trying to move as little as possible. There had been less kicking this time, more electrifying. She must have bit her tongue, it felt all thick. His hands paused.

“No, it’s Shaw, don’t you remember who I am?” He asked. She would have laughed at the genuine worry that lined his face, if it didn’t hurt too much to do so.

“Yes, you idiot, I know you’re Shaw,” she pushed his hand away, “but I always seem to wake up with you putting me back together. 

“Oh, no I’m the pilot,” he said strangely. “That’s one of the reasons they let me live during McCreary’s rebellion.”

“And the other reason,” she asked, tapping tenderly at her head, willing the headache to melt away. 

“Diyoza talked him into it,” he said, giving her a sip of water.

“Who’s Diyoza?” She asked, letting her hands fall, “and should I be trusting you with my medical care Pilot Shaw?”

He gave her a look so long suffering that she felt a pang in her chest that had nothing to do with the broken ribs. It was the same look Bellamy had given her when she brought him trouble. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” she mumbled, looking down at her lap when a protein bar landed in it.

“Eat, listen, maybe you’ll decide we’re worth saving,” he said. 

Clarke clumsily tore at the paper with her one good hand while Shaw pulled out a clean suture kit from one of the cabinets. Clarke watched him unfold it and cut off the fabric on her left leg, revealing a long nasty cut up her calf, right over another very familiar bear trap-shaped scar. She didn’t remember when that had happened. Probably a good thing. 

“Diyoza was one of the prisoners on the ship,” he began spraying a numbing agent along the cut, “but before that, she was a Colonel, my commanding officer to be more specific.”

Clarke had about a million questions zing around her mind but chewing the bar took all her effort so she stayed silent as he placed the needle into the first flap of skin. He looked up at her, “I don’t know what, if anything, you were taught about the American Armed Forces, but field medicine was a compulsory course, and I excelled in all my courses, hence, why I’m stitching you up.”

“Show off,” Clarke said through a full mouth.

“Yup,” he nodded. “Anyway, things were getting bad pretty much everywhere, wars, fights over resources, good people doing bad things to make it. Joining up was one of the few ways to ensure a steady paycheck for your family, and food that you could count on.”

“So, how does one go from being a Colonel to a prisoner on a mining ship?” Clarke asked, swallowing the bite of food and taking a sip of water from the bottle he’d placed on the table. 

“Well, one could decide the orders she receives from on high to blow up a neighborhood full of people on the off chance it takes out a few criminals is too high a price. And then one could steal an aircraft carrier and go save a bunch of migrants in the ocean because they were fleeing their dried out country because of climate change. And then one could escape the authorities by stealing a jet off the carrier, fly to her dad’s house to commit suicide with a friendly face but get stopped just in time and sent to mine an asteroid with a bunch of petty criminals to be made an example of.”

“Sounds like my kind of lady,” Clarke said. Shaw huffed, laughing a little. 

“Yeah, of course she believed humanity was worth saving, so maybe you wouldn't get along after all,” he said pointedly, the needle pausing as he looked over at her.

Clarke held the gaze, and answered it by taking another large bite of the bar. 

He sighed, “yeah, you could say I admired the gusto. When I heard she was being put on an Eligius mission I signed up. Wanted to keep an eye on her I guess, and the pay was so good, it was only supposed to be a twenty four year loop, it could put my little sister though school, upgrade my mom’s home with the latest tech for the droughts and everything.”

“It was worth leaving them?” Clarke asked, an image of Madi swimming into her vision as Shaw turned away to put the suture kit back. 

“The cryo meant we’d only age for the two years that we were actually mining. I’d get back in time to meet any nieces and nephews, see my mom, yeah, if they got to have a good life it would be worth it.”

A silence fell in the little room, both of them lost in the memories of decisions made and regretted. “So, Diyoza helped lead the rebellion?” She said finally, trying to figure out where the story ended, and if it could help her.

“What do you know about McCreary’s dad?” He asked suddenly. Clarke raised her eyebrows and pointed to the collar.

“Excuse me, but all questions related to that piece of shit go through shocky shocky here.”

Shaw’s eyes widened, “no, I mean, the story is easier if you understand who Bill Cadogan was, I just wasn’t sure where to start.”

“Some douchebag cult leader,” Clarke said absently. “Tricked people into following him, giving him their money, and in the end most just died anyway. I saw one of his bunkers,” Clarke looked up at the blinking eye of the camera, Shaw didn’t hide that they were watched. “It was full of the rotting corpses of people that trusted him. They thought he had answers.”

“Well, he was good at talking, so is McCreary,” Shaw said noncommittally. “So good that he talked Diyoza and the prisoners into rebelling against the crew once we woke up having overslept by a century or so.”

“And she talked you into going along with it?” Clarke asked, her mouth full of another bite of the bar. 

“Some of these guys are murderers, and psychopaths, and a whole bunch of other things,” he said, holding up a cloth with cleaning solution on it, and Clarke tipped her head toward him so he could dab in along some of the worst abrasions under the collar. “But a lot of them just didn’t have much of a chance to make a different choice. Haven’t you ever done something wrong for the right reasons?”

Clarke closed her eyes at the sting, “who we have to be to survive, isn’t who we are,” she said quietly. The movement around her neck paused. 

“Yeah,” Shaw said. “That’s right.” Clarke looked up at him, waiting for the story to go on. “Anyway, McCreary talked her into it, she talked me into it. The Captain, he would have landed back on this shit show and kept being in charge, he would never have tried to find a path to something better. It wasn’t right to sentence us all to a short life on this rock, and McCreary said if we helped him we had a chance to go to the new planet, the one that the Eligius mission III went to.”

“Diyoza really fell for that?” Clarke asked, slightly disappointed in this woman he’d been describing. 

“Well, by the time we were on the way back she was pregnant and wanted a chance to live a life with her kid. A new planet, a fresh start seemed like the way to do it. By the time we would make it there, any of our enemies that had traveled ahead of us would be long, long, dead.”

“So she’s a mom?” Clarke asked quietly, staring at her fingertips, thinking about a long brown braid woven with red berry dye. 

“Not yet,” Shaw said tightly, “she’s still in Cryo, up on the mothership so to speak,” he smirked. “The tech isn’t exactly rated well for fetuses, McCreary said she stays sleeping until we have the coordinates, too much radiation left down here.”

“How paternal of him,” Clarke said, watching Shaw closely as he fidgeted with the rest of the medical equipment. “You don’t like him very much, do you?” She asked, her eyes flicking over to the camera again. 

“Doesn’t matter what I think of him,” Shaw said brusquely, grabbing her arm and hauling her off the bed. “But I bet Diyoza would appreciate her child being given the chance to not be labeled a disease and prevented from living a life on a planet that wasn’t dying before she was even born.”

“Oh, and here comes the guilt trip,” Clarke said crossly. “I believe what I believe Shaw, one knocked up Colonel isn’t gonna sway me.”

“That’s fair,” he said, nodding as they walked down the hallway and back to the interrogation room. He pulled her close as he got his keycard out, pushing her up against the bars unnecessarily as she tried to stop her ribs from hitting them. “But that Madi person who you were crying for after he was done with you, and I was carrying you to med bay, I think that person might change your mind.”

Clarke immediately thought about all the ways she could kill him. Plan over. She’d let the one thing she couldn’t let slip, slip. 

“Good thing I haven’t told him about her though, isn’t it?” He asked, one eyebrow raised, their faces and voices hidden from the camera at the top of the cell. Clarke searched his eyes. Plan on. Plan moving according to plan. Shaw lives for another day.

She leaned in close, “my name is Clarke,” she whispered. 

Shaw pulled his head back, nodded, and opened the bars leading her inside to the chair once more. “Is Madi in the bunker?” he asked, his lips barely moving. 

“My child is the only good thing left. And there is nothing good in that bunker,” she said, letting his hands pause on the ties. She tilted her head, and raising her voice so the cameras picked it up, “fuck all of you and fuck the ship you came on. Oh, and fuck your new planet, I bet it would have sucked more than this one anyway, at least I know where there’s moonshine!” 

Shaw started laughing, low at first until closing the barred door behind him, the sound growing as he left her, bouncing and echoing down the hall. Clarke tilted her face to the cameras letting it grow into a grimace, but inside, inside she was was laughing too. A thread of hope weaving its way around her soul. She could do this. She was getting close.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Hold on Madi, she whispered in her mind. You got this kid. You got this. She repeated the mantra to herself as McCreary made his way back into the room. This time with a long knife in his hand. 

“Tell me where the bunker is,” he held it up so the light glinted off of it.

“Tell me when the last time you took a shower was because good god man, you are rank.” 

She was a little proud of how long she held out before she started to scream.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TGIF readers. Thank you all for the comments and kudos, they are greatly enjoyed and appreciated.

Five Years. 11 Months. 30 Days. 

_This is nice Wanheda. You’ve chosen a pretty view. You and the natblida look peaceful._

_Nothing to share today? I see you’ve lost the radio._

_It’s so quiet. When you’re both gone and they eat each other one by one, then it will be as it should._

_Maybe it’s too quiet. I know you don’t like to talk without the radio but since the child is sleeping, how about we just have a little chat, you know-_

**What’s that?**   
_Son of a_

**It’s too big to be the shuttle.**

_Well shit. The spawn made it back after all._

**Who are they?**

_Shut up. I’m thinking. Change isn’t easy for me._

**Please. Help us. If there’s a way out of this...please give me another choice.**

**Are you there? Don’t leave me now you terrorist.**

_Look at you. All heart these days. Guess I’ll have to be the head. Will you make me one of your stories?_

**They’re getting closer!**

_Run. Hide. Listen.  
I’m changing the rules. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s time to have a little hope. After all, you’re still breathing aren’t you?_

Six Years 

“How long have I been here?” She asked Shaw, the circles under his eyes had grown. How long before the prisoners ran out of food on the Gagarin and had to go to restock on the mothership? Would they take Clarke with? Would she be able to see the ring from their ship? 

She missed Madi. She missed talking to Bellamy on the radio. The roar in her head was so loud these days. She even missed yelling at Octavia at the bunker radio station. The blood loss was becoming pretty concerning. She couldn’t get a transfusion from just anyone. She was left feeling loopy. Time felt like sludge. 

“Three months,” he said softly. 

“Wow,” Clarke said, and to her horror tears began slipping out of her eyes. “Oh shit,” she sobbed.

“Hey,” he said, setting down the thread, “hey it’s okay C-” 

She stiffened, “sorry,” he said lamely. He took one of her hands in his. When had she lost the fingernails?

“I’m not going to last much longer, am I?” She asked, staring at the ceiling. Shaw pursed his lips. 

“McCreary has something he thinks will work, it was made for the more violent offenders, but he’s going to try to use it in a different way.”

Clarke turned her head to look at him, “he’s going to stick an AI in me isn’t he?”

His eyes widened, “how did you know that?”

“Inside source.”

“Come again?” He said hesitantly

“First time we talked, you noticed the scar on my neck, it wasn’t from falling off a tree.”

Shaw stared at her, his face blank. “I don’t know anything about you,” he said finally. “I’ve told you about my family, about boot camp and how it felt to fly my first jet. About how terrible I felt about killing the captain of the Eligius IV even though I disagreed with what he was doing. I’ve told you everything there is to know about me. But you, you’re still blank, just a thing in our way to a future.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Clarke said, the tears still rolling down her cheeks. “Who are you to judge me? What right do you have to my story?”

“You want something from me,” Shaw hissed in her face, his normally detached gaze blazing with anger. “You said I was the type of guy that hadn’t figured out you were right. So convince me that you’re right. Convince me you’re not the villain, since you seem so sure I can’t tell the difference between them and the heroes.” 

_There. He wants to follow you. Don’t lose him now Wanheda. It’s our best shot._   
**Don't call me that.**

“What are you saying?” He asked, his hand wrapped around hers, his face came in close. 

“You’re the one that’s already looped the security feed in here,” she whispered quietly, “do I really need to convince you?”

His mouth dropped open, “how did you-”

“Shaw, my time is running out. Her time is running out. He’s going to put that AI in me. He’s only waited this long in case it fries my brain before he gets the answer. But he’s out of options, and so am I.”

“If all you wanted was for me to kill McCreary,” he trailed off. 

“The problem is larger than McCreary. It’s not as simple as opening a door and getting a code,” she said wearily. “We need help, we need the people that aren’t trapped in the bunker. We need the ones stuck up on the ring.”

His eyes widened, “you need a pilot.”

She moved her hands to cover his, trying to see his face as her eyes blurred from the tears. “I need a friend. I’m fresh out of them these days. I need help. I can’t save her on my own, please Shaw, she’s just a kid. I need you to get her and prove to her she can trust you. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure you have a future on a bright, shiny new planet but I need to save her first.”

“What about what I need?” Shaw vehemently, “what happens to Diyoza, to the men that trust me that are still sleeping above us?”

“Save who you can save today Shaw,” she said quietly. “If he uses the AI on me I won’t be able to keep the bunker’s location from him. Bring Madi here. Find a way to get everyone off this ship and take off with us on it. Bonus points if McCreary dies.”

“What about all your bullshit about humanity not being worth it?” 

“I lied,” Clarke said laughing weakly, “I’m a sucker for saving humanity. Raven will be so relieved that she’s still the smartest person in the room.”

“Who’s Raven?” he asked

“She’s awesome,” Clarke replied drowsily, feeling heavy and light at the same time. Her plans laid bare, once like armor around her heart, all the plating was stripped off leaving her exposed. 

“Why are you doing this Clarke?” He whispered, slipping a long suture knife up the bandage on her arm. “Why go through all of this? Just to convince me to help you?”

“I don’t trust myself,” she said, the world slipping out of her hold once more, “but I needed to know if I could trust you. I’m no hero, but you still have a chance to be one. Take it.” The world went black and she suddenly felt very alone. 

And then she was staring again at McCreary who held a bit of hell in hand. It was crude and early and copied from a more elegant design, for a more nefarious purpose. He spoke into it so it came to life and reached toward her neck, and everything that she was retreated from the intrusion.

_This is not so good Wanheda._

**Obviously.**

_Seriously, I don’t like company._

**Why are you here?**

_I live here. You’re the monkey on my back, never listening._

**Well that’s just rude. This was your idea. Now look at the state of me. Worse than when I started.**

_This was the alternative to dead. Smart ass._

There was an itch on her neck, it was painful. She tried to find her hands. It felt like she was getting at it now, but maybe she needed a tool. There, there was her hand, and a helpful little piece of sharpness. How convenient. The day was coming up daisies for the princess. 

_I don’t like that._

**It’s just an itch. Leave me alone, I don’t tell you how to live your life.**

_Go too high and I can’t tell you a thing O great Commander of Death._

**Don’t call me that!**

Clarke screamed, and then she was screaming and screaming into the darkness, and her arms were around someone, and the voice in her mind transformed.

“Clarke we have to go!” Shaw yelled from somewhere outside the blackness where she lived.

When did Shaw get in her ear? It seemed vaguely concerning to her that she could fit Shaw in there. But thank god that itch was gone. That had been traumatic. 

“Where’s who going?” she mumbled, feeling herself trip over her feet. She had feet again. But they weren’t working right. Was tiny ear-Shaw carrying her? How very strong of him. Like, what was the word, like a knight. What a good little knight by his Queen’s side. 

Ravens in the dark, diving toward her, talons stretched out. She opened her eyes and gasped as the world rushed at her. She choked on the pain, her hand flying to her neck, feeling an opening that sent the world spinning. “Oh god, I’m dying, again” she whispered to herself. She could cry but it seemed useless. 

“No. You’re not, we’re almost at the cockpit, Madi’s there, hold on Clarke,” Shaw was yelling now and they were going faster down the halls until they reached a room and he was setting her down in a chair. God how she hated chairs. 

There was a child screaming, wait, there was only one child in the world so that had to mean..Madi! Her eyes flew open and took in the most beautiful thing. Her kid. Her great, silly, brave kid. 

“You said she was alive!” 

“Madi I’m alive, baby, I’m okay,” Clarke said. She did say that, right? 

“Madi,” she tried again, this time really opening her eyes instead of just imagining it. Forcing the words out of her throat, it felt all light, no collar, no collar for the first time in forever. No collar because of that thing that was in her head that she’d sliced out of her head. 

“Mom,” her little girl cried, and she was still Madi but tear streaked and bruised, why was her baby bruised? She’d kill the thing that bruised her. 

“Kid, get her strapped in, this isn’t gonna be a pretty take off,” Shaw said from somewhere in front of them. Clarke could feel Madi lifting her arms, clicking something in place. 

She must have passed out, because soon she was weightless. She saw stars. She saw a ring. She saw the Earth, and after six years the only voice in her head was her own.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was an easier chapter to write, hope you enjoy. The next three that come after are lengthy, but come with...just possibly...Bellamy and Clarke getting that long overdue drink. Stay tuned!

Clarke finished telling the story, closed her eyes, and leaned back into the bed. She didn’t want to watch the repercussions ripple around them. She didn’t want them to see in her eyes the small betrayals she made. The omissions that would reveal her desperation. 

“You got yourself tortured for three months to buy yourself a pilot?” Raven asked, her voice coming out all strangled as though there was a collar around her neck too.

Clarke shrugged, swiveling the watch around her wrist. “Like I said, the coordinates to the Eligius III mission are hidden in the bunker. I didn’t just need a pilot, I needed one that was familiar with their mining equipment. And I had to make sure I could trust Shaw with the information about you all, the bunker, and Madi.”

“Okay, okay,” Bellamy said, squeezing his eyes tightly. Trying to put one thought in front of the other. “This is all a lot, and-” he stopped, trying to lead but not knowing where to. “The coordinates are in the bunker? Does Octavia know-”

“No,” Clarke said, picking at the blankets, “there was no way to get out of the Valley and warn them without being seen. But they shouldn’t be in danger from Eligius, unless-” her thought seemed to drop off a ledge, and she turned to Shaw again. “How’d you get put into a collar?”

Shaw looked back at her, absently rubbing his neck, “I had to get Madi, convince her I was on your side, so I slipped off in the middle of the night after I took you back to the cell that last time. When I got back, before Madi put on her pyro show to lead him and all the men out of the Gagarin, McCreary threw it on me for desertion. He was angry I wasn’t around right away to fly them to the bunker. He left the door wide open, you were passed out when I found you, he must have thought you were dead, for a moment I did too. I’m sorry Clarke, I’m pretty sure he knows where it is now. But he doesn’t have the means to get there, at least not easily. No rations either.”

Silence smothered the room again as they all contemplated that. Clarke let out a long sigh, and rubbed her eyes. 

“Are you sure Clarke?” Monty asked, “are you sure there’s nothing that can be done to make the Earth livable?” 

“So sure I let myself get strapped to chair and tortured for three months,” Clarke shot back, her mouth twisted in an unfamiliar way. 

“No, no of course not, I wasn’t saying” Monty faltered, Harper wrapped a hand around his arm, whispering in his ear.

“It’s true man, I have samples in the transport ship if you want to check,” Shaw said. “Realizing all the food was irradiated was a blow to McCreary, it meant he was short on time to find the location of the bunker, we were all getting sick of protein bars after a few weeks.”

“Poor baby,” Clarke said, and the knots in Bellamy’s stomach twisted again for a different reason.

“I think I just need to go away for a moment, sorry” Monty mumbled, turning and walking out of the room, Harper close by. Clarke tracking them out the door. She could feel the shame creep up. She should have been nicer, she used to be nicer. 

She turned back to Bellamy, opening her mouth to apologize but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. 

“Clarke, it’s not your fault the Earth can’t support life, we just all need time to adjust.”

“Okay,” she said, but her voice sounded small, “but time isn’t really on the bunker’s side Bellamy.”

That familiar clench in his heart, that seemed to happen whenever Octavia passed his thoughts. “Clarke, about the bunker, and Octavia, you said what we need is,” he began, but Clarke shook her head. 

“Bellamy I know you want to talk about the bunker. And I want to answer all your questions but I I need to rest.” Clarke said, “can we pick this back up tomorrow? Everything will still be a shit show then, I promise.”

“Of course,” Raven said, “Harper and I will get you cleaned up once you’ve rested,” she turned to study Shaw. “You. Pilot. There’s an extra room that has a bed and a sink. Unless you want to go back to the little cell.”

Shaw straightened up, “oh, what joy, a bed, oh how kind,” he said nastily.

“Shaw,” Clarke’s voice cut across the room, a scowl on her face. 

“Four days Clarke,” Shaw said angrily, “four days I didn’t know if you were okay. That’s not right.”

“It’s not Raven’s fault you have catholic guilt,” Clarke said sourly. 

“He should feel guilty,” Murphy said darkly. 

“Oh shut it Murphy,” Clarke said irritably, pressing a hand to her forehead. 

Murphy looked mollified, but cautious. “You really pulled an AI out of your own skull Griffin?”

Clarke took a shaky breath, and odd smile crooking at the corner of her mouth “buy me a drink when I don’t have this headache and I’ll spill all the gory details, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Murphy shrugged, a strange look passing across his face, “whatever Griffin,” he said, and he turned on his heel, Emori rolled her eyes, threw an apology out the side of her mouth and went after him.

Raven stepped forward toward Shaw, “last chance.”

“Lead the way,” he said dryly, coughing a bit as he followed her out the door. “Are you going to lock me in again?” He asked as the went down the hall. Bellamy couldn’t hear her reply but her the sharpness of it rang off the walls. 

He looked up at Echo who seemed locked against the wall, her face heartbroken. Of all of them, she had loved the Earth the most. Had lived and roamed among the green and blue and white of it all. He ached for her, and his arm reached out even though his feet stayed put.

She saw the movement, shook her head and slipped out the door. He was falling short again. He knew it. He looked over at Clarke. He could see a ring of perspiration line her forehead. Madi had slipped back into the room when Monty had walked out, and curled back up against Clarke, her head tucked into her side.. 

“Want something for the pain?” he asked softly. 

“Why not,” she said, and Bellamy filled a syringe full of the pain meds Harper had laid out, before going over to lower the lights in the room. 

“Don’t leave,” Clarke said, her voice barely above a whisper carried out.

“Are you afraid of me Clarke?” He asked, the question burning in his skull since she’d shrank from him in those first few moments. 

For a moment, all he could hear was her breathing, “I’m afraid of me.”

The strange cocktail of grief, guilt, relief, and horror churned in him, and he did the only thing he could. “I’ll be right here,” he said, laying down on the bed Shaw had rested on while she’d told them all a story that made his skin crawl.

He didn’t sleep, but listened to the steady beep of the monitor, reminding him that even though the Earth was dead, Clarke was alive. And he still had a little sister to pull from a grave. 

***

Bellamy woke up with a crick in his neck that cracked sharply when turned to the right to see Clarke and Madi just as he’d left them when he’d fallen asleep. Still wrapped up in each other, the child’s head tucked under Clarke’s chin. 

He checked his watch, 7am Shallow Valley time. Shaw had given them the time zone Eligius was on, because it likely meant it was the same one Clarke had kept Madi to down there. 

Like clockwork, she opened her eyes. He got it now. The way she stared at him, squinting. Her vision was still blurry, she was waiting for it to focus. He thought about the glasses he had found on the ring two years in, and thought maybe he could find some for her today. 

“Hey,” he whispered, as her face smoothed out and recognition of everything that had been told and learned yesterday fell into place. 

She smiled, “hey.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, swinging his legs off the second bed, and going over to fill up the syringe of painkillers. 

“Gross,” Clarke said, shaking Madi a little until the girl’s eyes opened like slits. “She’s bad at mornings.”

“Maybe she’s Murphy’s,” Bellamy said, pushing the pain meds into her arm, watching her eyes close in relief.

“Shut up,” Madi said crossly. 

“Hello to you too sunshine,” Bellamy said, feeling the familiar practice of waking Octavia up surround him. “Head into the control room and grab Harper and Raven for me, tell them Clarke’s up, and I bet Monty will find you a bowl of algae.”

“Excellent,” Madi said, placing a kiss on her mom’s cheek and bouncing out of the room. Clarke watched her go, a smile playing around her mouth.

“I still can’t believe you raised a kid at the end of the world,” he said, unwrapping the bandages from her arm, revealing cuts and bruises that had turned green and yellow over the last few days. 

“We needed each other,” Clarke said, “and she’s fun, she made me fun, remember how not fun I was all the time?”

“You had other things to worry about,” Bellamy said, “we both did.”

“Yeah, still, I wish we could’ve had more fun together when we had the chance,” she said and something in her voice made him drop the pin on the floor.

“You okay there cadet?” She asked, her voice amused. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not good in the mornings either,” he muttered, relieved when Harper and Raven entered the room, wide smiles plastered on their faces.

“Who’s ready for a shower?” Raven said brightly, dark hair down and purple circles under her eyes.

“Shouldn’t you all be doom and gloom about the Earth dying?” Clarke asked, suspiciously.

Raven and Harper glanced at each other, and Clarke was staring at both of them like they were late for curfew. Bellamy just focused on not punching the wall when he got to unwrapping the bandages on her legs. 

“I think we’re in shock,” Raven said finally, “but we made showering compulsory after the great Murphy stink of year two and a half, and you don’t get to break the rules now.”

“Ah, how sweet,” Clarke said, but there was laughter behind it. Bellamy had moved behind her now and placed a hand at the bandage on her neck. He ran a finger down the seam of the bandage, idly watching her spine shiver at the touch.

“Bellamy,” Harper said, coming forward “why don’t I take care of that one? I think we’re going to wash and cut her hair to before we expose the cut to anything.”

“Right,” he said, his hand dropping down. He walked over to the door, feeling at loose ends now. 

“I’ll meet you in the control room when we’re finished, yeah?” Clarke asked, as Raven and Harper both took an arm and slowly brought her to her feet. Bellamy blinked, and took in her too thin frame, the lines of dried black blood that dotted the hospital gown Harper had put on her the second day. 

He knew where all the bruises were. He knew where all the cuts were, on places that made him need to blink red out of his eyes. But still, those blue eyes danced, still she seemed, so very oddly, relaxed. That was the thing that made him the most nervous. Clarke had never been relaxed. 

“Sure, I’ll see you there,” Bellamy said, forcing a smile on his face and turning to leave, walking down the hallway toward the control room. He could feel her eyes on him and the tug felt like a cord that he fought against all the way. 

Of course he’d run into Murphy.

“How’s the princess?” He asked, stepping away from the wall he’d been holding up to follow him. 

“Raven and Harper are helping her get cleaned up,” he said, trying to ignore the gnawing in his gut. He couldn’t tell anymore what was hunger and what was worry.

“When are we going to talk about the obvious?” Murphy asked, placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder to slow him. 

“The obvious what Murphy?” Bellamy said, throwing his hand off but turning toward him.

“Oh, I don’t know, little miss skedaddle out of this galaxy.” Murphy said, crossing his arms, the bad haircut throwing hair in his eyes. “Are we seriously going along with this plan? We don’t know anything more about Eligius than we did before they docked. Shaw kept his mouth pretty damn shut for that whole story last night in case you missed it.”

Bellamy opened his mouth to shoot down Murphy’s complaints, but realized he had nothing. So he looked at this shoes.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” Murphy said, but his voice was less triumphant than it would have been six years ago.

“She’s been through a lot,” Bellamy said, talking to the ground.

“I know she’s been through a lot Bell,” Murphy said, the venom back in his voice, “that’s pretty damn clear. She can act all cheerful mom in front of Madi, but watch her, she’s not right, she’s not-” he stopped. “I’m just saying, something’s not right. And I don’t care how much Shaw helped save the day at the end. He still let her get tortured for three months before coming around. He’s should pay for that.”

“She told you not to hurt him,” Bellamy said, annoyed that Murphy got to be angry and he somehow fell back into defending Clarke’s plan. Old habits die hard.

“Lucky me, I never asked how high, when Clarke said jump,” Murphy said, turning on his heels, leaving Bellamy lost in his own spaceship.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Shaw explain the plan to Spacekru, Murphy challenges Clarke, and she reveals the reason she needs Bellamy with her when they open the Bunker.

A few hours and haircut later, Clarke showed up in the control room. Raven had chopped her tangled mane off at her collarbone, and she and Harper had gently combed and washed out the black blood, dirt, and other bits of terribleness until the light strands, lighter than he remembered after years of bleaching out in the sun, shone. 

Clarke agreed that her neck and the cut on the back of it were still too raw and delicate to be exposed and so a thick white bandage still enclosed it. But they’d given her some new, old clothes. Instead of the shorn ends of the Eligius shorts and tank top, or the hospital gown they’d laid over her, she wore a faded blue jumpsuit. It was long in the arms and legs, so they cuffed the ankles and wrists and Harper gave her a tank top to wear underneath it. 

Shaw directed them to the Gagarin’s supply of officer uniforms, where a pair of boots was found that could fit her feet. Bellamy looked for an extra pair of glasses but came up empty. He could only hope that some time without irradiated food would correct some of the problems it had caused. 

She walked in looking happier than he ever remembered Clarke Griffin looking, and while he wanted to smile back at her, at the gift that this seemed to be, something held him back. He didn’t miss how her smile faltered at him for this, as her confident walk slowed, and her hand went back to circle around her Father’s watch. A tic she’d seemed to have picked up while they were apart. 

Shaw shadowed Clarke’s entrance into the room, she motioned for him to take a seat at the table, despite Murphy glowering at him from the end.

“Where’s Madi?” Harper asked as she pulled up a chair next to Monty. The latter still ashen-faced after Clarke’s news about the Earth. 

“I set her up in the vid room,” Clarke said, pulling out a chair and sitting carefully down. The damage to her body apparent in the way she moved now, despite the coverage to her arms and legs the jumpsuit provided. The bruises on her cheeks were turning a deep blue, as black blood pooled beneath them. It had an odd effect on the color of her eyes Bellamy thought, it made them darker too. “She wanted to see one of the games my dad and I used to watch together, and” Clarke paused, glancing to the view of the ruined planet out the window, “I think she’s a little overwhelmed at all the people here. Needed some time to herself.”

“She’s a great kid Clarke,” Harper said, trying to pull her attention from the window.

Clarke smiled, “once she’s not leading you into bear traps she’s a real gem.”

Bellamy couldn’t stay still, he kept shifting from foot to foot, glancing down at his shoes and back at Clarke. He was on edge, waiting for whatever she had to tell them next, whatever plan she had in place that would either confirm his worst fears, or assuage them. She noticed.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, “I think you’re going to want to sit down.”

“Why?” He asked, crossing his arms.

She sighed, “please, just sit, you’re too tall and it hurts to look up.” 

He sighed, pulling out the chair next to Echo. She didn’t reach out her hand to him, but he could feel her leg pressed against his beneath the table. 

She absently rubbed her forehead and glanced over at Shaw, “where did I leave off?”

“You told us that Earth was dead and we needed to leave for some unknown planet based on what you heard from spying on a dead cult-leader’s son,” Monty said sullenly. 

“Oh yes,” Clarke replied. “So, really, the next step is getting the code from the bunker to unlock the coordinates before McCreary does, assuming he survived Madi and Shaw’s breakout, which knowing our luck- ”

“The coordinates to the planet,” Raven interjected, “why are they so heavily encrypted in the first place?”

“We were a prisoner transport ship,” Shaw said, turning toward Raven even as she scowled back at him. “Becca coded the Eligius missions and that data is in the mainframe, but it’s not like she wanted to risk a ship full of prisoners diverting to her brand new planet. Which, I guess is exactly what’s happening now.”

Raven stood up so fast her chair toppled, “Becca?” she gasped. Bellamy felt the pit in his stomach grow wider. 

“Raven,” Clarke said gently, “of course it goes back to Becca. She’s the one that encrypted the files so well that from what Shaw says, it would take someone with your and Monty’s abilities decades to break in.”

“Wait, Clarke even if that’s true,” Harper said diplomatically, “how does that circle back to the code to unlock it being hidden in the bunker?” 

“Well,” Clarke spread her hands on the table, “that’s where this is going to take a leap,” she smiled up at them, the grin fading at the uneasy expressions facing her. 

“Because everything so far has been just super relatable,” Murphy sneered.

“Says the man who pumped night blood into me so I could enter an alternative reality to stop a rogue A.I.,” Clarke shot back, and Murphy just shook his head, turning away from her. 

“Listen, guys,” Shaw said, “you all weren’t around when everything was falling apart. Right before I left on the Eligius IV mission all the headlines were about how Eligius Corp and The Second Dawn organization were collaborating. Becca made Cadogan’s cult mainstream. People wanted in.”

“Hold up,” Monty raised his head from where he’d been resting it on the table, holding two fingers in the air, “are you saying that the woman that created the A.I. that destroyed the world the first time, and the man that created the Second Dawn cult knew each other?”

“Yes?” Shaw said, his voice confused as he looked down at Clarke, “they didn’t know that?”

Clarke shrugged, then winced at the motion. “Becca was up on the 13th station before Unity Day, I have a feeling she did her best to erase any remaining information surrounding her connections to Bill Cadogan and The Second Dawn cult. I didn’t learn about it until overhearing McCreary wax poetic about it to the other miners on those radios I planted.” Clarke looked down and away at the end of this and it made something shift uneasily in the back of Bellamy’s mind. 

“What exactly did this man say?” Echo asked.

Clarke took a deep breath, “Cadogan and Becca pooled their resources when the Second Dawn cult was gaining influence and prestige, just as the world was going to hell due to climate instability and constant wars. But it would seem that while Becca and her Eligius corporation were looking for a solution for all of humanity, Bill Cadogan was more interested in just a select few, level thirteen members to be exact, rising from the ashes.”

That’s why Cadogan built the bunker, Raven said softly, her eyes darting around the group. “He let Allie out so there wouldn’t be anyone else to save once the mining mission returned home, and he did it while Becca was up on the ark.”

“And that’s why we pick Raven first,” Clarke said softly, smiling at the mechanic. 

“If McCreary was Cadogan’s son, why wouldn’t he know where the bunker was? Why did he torture you for its location?” Emori asked. 

“McCreary’s an idiot despite his skills with a scalpel,” Clarke said. “I doubt he was anywhere near Cadogan’s level thirteen. The kindest thing his father did for him was to get him on that mining mission instead of letting him sit in prison to be incinerated with the rest of the world when he let Allie out. Plus, Eligius IV took off before Cadogan built the bunker, McCreary was, is, searching for a needle in a haystack.”

“This still doesn’t answer the question of why you think the code is in the bunker,” Murphy said caustically. 

Clarke smiled that strange smile at him, and Bellamy’s stomach turned again, “but it does answer it, don’t you see? Cadogan didn’t have the coordinates, but Becca did. He knew that she would come down to try and help. Which would mean that once Eligius IV came back with the fuel, a trip that was only supposed to be 24 years, Cadogan and his followers would be the only people around to hop on board and fly off to a new planet that he’s in charge of. What else could a cult leader want?”

“But Eligius didn’t come back for them,” Raven said slowly, the realization dawning on her face, “so Becca had to find a solution to keep the code living, and safe from someone like Cadogan and his followers.”

Clarke nodded, “the flame, it’s the only thing that makes sense. A shared consciousness that tells each Commander to be cautious of people falling from the sky, because they have a secret to protect. Make sense why we received such a poor welcome the first time.”

“And the flame is in the bunker, with Gaia,” Bellamy said, his head spinning as a headache loomed behind his eyes. He was starting to worry about brain tumors. Or maybe Clarke had always given him headaches and he’s just forgotten. 

Clarke grinned, “yup, I bet the code is in the flame. After two hundred years the message got muddled, the Commanders, wouldn’t have understood exactly what it meant, but I do. I can use the flame and get that code, and then we all can get the hell out of this orbit for good.”

“You bet?” Murphy said, his voice dangerously soft.

Clarke raised her chin, “Yeah Murphy, I bet. So does McCreary. Only I’m going to make sure we’re all, Wonkru included, on that transport ship, whereas McCreary would have killed everyone in that bunker, and any dissenters in Eligius. Like father, like son,” she laughed softly, strangely. 

“So you think little miss pramheda made a treasure map to a new world and stuck it in that damn piece of A.I., so that one day the good guys may find their way?” Murphy sneered. 

Bellamy saw Clarke look over at him, for what, support to tell Murphy to fuck off? But he couldn’t, he had the same thoughts running through his mind. 

“Listen guys,” Clarke said, “I get this is a lot to take in, or believe, or whatever, but little miss pramheda,” Clarke said, her smile a bit steelier at Murphy, “was the only one that was going to try and help humanity, try to make up for creating Allie. Cadogan just wanted to save himself and the few believers that treated him like a god. They both died waiting for the ship to come back but,” and now she leaned back in her chair, her smile growing, “their terrible timing is our good fortune.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Murphy said to the ring of wide, tense faces. 

“Murphy,” Bellamy said warning him to back off of the girl that had spent three months strapped to a chair to bring them this story, however implausible. 

“No,” Murphy yelled, “I’m creeped out, listening to this bullshit fairy tale from someone I barely recognize.”

“Oh Murphy if you don’t like the haircut you don’t have to be rude about it,” Clarke said flippantly.

“There!” Murphy yelled,”that’s what I’m talking about, this smiling, care-free, not concerned about the fact that the Earth is dead Clarke, that’s what I’m mad about.” He rounded on her, standing in front of her chair. 

“I know you’ve got pilot-do-good over here won over with your sparkling new attitude, and Bellamy will crawl after you because he has spent six years grieving but not me,” Murphy leaned in close, “you’ve cracked Clarke. You’re going to get us killed. You’re going to get your daughter killed.”

Murphy was inches from Clarke’s blue eyes when it happened. She must have had the scalpel up one of the bandages because the next thing Bellamy knew she was up and out of the chair, the tip of the knife pressed into Murphy’s neck, propelling him backward, slamming him into the window pane. 

For a moment the rest of them did nothing, then surged forward only to be stopped at Murphy’s outstretched hand, waving them away. The dusty red planet loomed large behind them.

“What’s the matter Murphy?” Clarke asked, her voice sweet. She was half up on her tiptoes to get the right angle on his neck with the weapon, but Bellamy could see it was costing her, rivulets of black blood were saturating the bandage on the back of her neck. “Did you miss Wanheda that much?”

“What are you so fucking pleased about Clarke?” Murphy said, his voice quiet to avoid the pinprick of the point. “You show up here looking like death warmed over, telling us the planet is a lost cause, but acting like everything is sunshine and rainbows? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be tortured for information? You think Bellamy doesn’t know? This isn’t how you’re supposed to react. You’re not right in the head Griffin.”

Bellamy felt like he’d been welded to the floor. He should intervene, but Murphy was only voicing the same questions that had been on his mind too. 

“Pleased? You don’t believe me because I look too happy?” she said, the chuckle sending shivers down Bellamy’s spine. “Fuck you too then Murphy. I’m going to smile as much as I want because up until three months ago I was trying to figure out the best time to put a bullet in Madi’s head so she wouldn’t have to starve to death alone after I died.” Bellamy felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, taking a few steps back. 

Clarke continued, “but then McCreary landed, and yes, he’s the scum of the Earth and that’s really saying something at this point, and he doesn’t deserve a new world, but Madi does. So every slice he made into my skin. Every time that collar fried me. Every time he put his hands on me I smiled. I smiled really big Murphy, because it meant I didn’t have to give up anymore. It meant redemption for closing up our people in a grave and promising salvation after it.” Clarke tilted her head and Bellamy couldn’t quite see her expression in the reflection of the window. But she lowered her hand and let the scalpel slip from her fingers to clatter to the floor. “Bu so sorry my new attitude creeps you out,” she said taking a few steps back from him.

Murphy let out a long slow breath, “now that’s the Wanheda I remember,” he said tightly, his eyes narrowed, hands clenched by his sides. 

“Murphy,” Clarke said, turning away from him and walking between the standing statues of the rest of them, a low keen escaping her as she lowered herself back down on a chair. “Wanheda has nothing on Clarke Griffin, not anymore.”

“You’re right, she’s crazier,” Murphy said, a smile pricking at the edges of his mouth, as he slid down the window to sit, “but I think I like crazy Clarke better.”

Bellamy stared at the wide eyes of his family as the tension slowly seeped back out of the room. He threw Raven a desperate look and she took pity on him. 

“Clarke,” Raven said, stepping over Murphy’s splayed legs and coming closer toward her, “even if we get the code, or whatever, what do we do about the cryo beds?”

Clarke lowered her chin into the cradle of her hands. Bellamy could see the sweat lining her forehead, her pale hands shaking as Shaw moved over to hold another pad of gauze to her neck, shooting Murphy a dirty look. “What are you talking about?” she muttered hollowly.

“Shaw said there are a thousand cryo beds,” Raven said stepping forward, her eyes large in her face. 

“Yeah, and?” 

“Well,” Raven began tentatively, “even if we had all the beds for just the people in the bunker, it wouldn’t be enough for them, the miners, and us.”

“Time for another list?” Harper said softly, looking up at Clarke as Monty grabbed her hand. 

Clarke grimaced, “it won’t be a problem, the last time I got in contact with Octavia they were down to just under five hundred. There’s more than enough room for the almost three hundred prisoners still in cryo, grounders, and skaikru alumni.”

“Five hundred?” Bellamy heard himself ask, even as a ringing started growing in his ears. Walking toward the table, he laid his hands on hers, making her look at him. Making her say what she’d been holding back. “How is that possible?”

“Famine, disease, fighting pits,” she said, pulling her hands away, and reaching over to twirl the watch around her wrist. “But, after year five there was a bad outbreak of tuberculosis, Jackson almost died from it, so he couldn’t enforce the quarantine, and Octavia refused to end the fighting pits so,” she shrugged, then winced again rolling her eyes, “there you go.”

“Fighting pits?” Monty asked nervously.

“Where was Abby?” Raven asked, her voice catching on the question. Clarke didn't look up, just kept twirling the watch, around and around. “Clarke!” she said, stepping forward. 

“Mom’s dead,” Clarke said, finally looking up at Raven, her eyes dry. “She broke one of Wonkru’s laws so Octavia executed her. She wouldn’t have been much entertainment in the pit anyway.” 

Raven halted, her face a mask of horror. 

Clarke shrugged, as though the weight of her words meant nothing. “It’s partly why we came up here first,” she jutted her chin toward Bellamy, “I need you there when we get the bunker open, Octavia blames me for...” Clarke trailed off, as she faced Bellamy’s broken expression, “she’s not as you remember her. She’s made Wonkru into an army. I don’t know how happy they’ll be when we open the doors. There’s a good chance that in order to save them, we’ll have to fight them.”

A shudder tore through Bellamy. This woman was a walking earthquake. She couldn’t stop making his world crash down around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew - rewrote this chapter about five times. Hope it all made sense!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A skybox discussion and a date made.

Bellamy left the control room and walked until he ended up at the one place on the ship the rest of them knew to leave alone. Clarke’s old cell. He looked at the drawings she had made before she’d ever stepped foot on the ground. Drawings that painted such a beautiful picture of the world that had given them so little peace. 

“Can I come in?” Clarke’s voice slipped past him as he sat in the little cell. Appearing at the entrance like so many of his daydreams come to life, but the hand that still swirled that watch around gave the truth away.

“Why not,” Bellamy replied, shifting over on the bed so she could sit down. “It was yours first.”

“I should’ve been charging you rent,” she said, a smile that was still new to him crooked on her face. 

“You okay?” He asked, watching as she settled down on the thinly padded bed, and leaned her back against the wall, her hair glinting against the gray steel. He had only known her when the sun shined on it. 

“Honestly,” she said, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “a little embarrassed about how I handled Murphy.” She looked directly ahead of her, asking the question to the mountain she’d drawn there, “are you?”

“You mean, am I okay since finding out my baby sister is a homicidal dictator?” 

Clarke sighed, hanging her head to pick at the threads of the bandages on her arms. “I could have broken that news a little better.”

“You think?” 

“Perhaps my people skills have deteriorated.”

“Did you ever have them?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and suddenly he started to laugh. Which turned into heaves and before long the threatening prick of tears at his eyes spilled over. He had to lean his forearms onto his knees, taking deep gulping breaths to keep from hyperventilating. The onslaught of everything finally hitting him. 

Clarke being alive, but at such a cost. Losing these years with her. His sister becoming something...else. The absurdity that Clarke wanted to run away to different planet. 

She must have read his mind. The weight of her hand on his back stilled him. It was the first time she’d touched him since that moment in the little med bay room. It rooted him back to himself, the heaving stopped, his breathing slowed.

“Madi gets panic attacks too sometimes,” she said quietly. “They had all these little hiding places for her in the village when the flame keepers would reap natblida children. She fell into one of them once, knocked herself out on the way down. When she woke up it was already dark and she couldn’t figure out how to get out. She was screaming and shaking and laughing hysterically by the time I found her.” Clarke continued to trace circles on his back with her fingers, the movement was light, but he could feel the tension of the day seep out. “Scared the hell out of me too.”

“Clarke,” he began, speaking to the floor, “what you’re saying, about Octavia, about your mom, that scares the hell out of me. It’s scaring me how you can talk about it like, like it’s-” 

“Nothing?” Clarke asked, her voice hollow. “Of course it’s not nothing Bellamy, but-” Clarke closed her eyes, her hand slipped away as he leaned back, falling once again to her wrist. 

“What? Say it Clarke.”

“Bellamy, I did this, we, we did this to Octavia. We gave a teenager that never had power over her own life the ultimate control over everyone else’s. Because what? She won a fight? And then we stuck her in a hole with the same advisors that sent a hundred juvenile delinquents to the ground because they were expendable. Did we think the outcome would be pretty?”

“Not,” he began, “not this, Octavia’s good, she’s a good person. Headstrong, stubborn but she knows right from wrong, I taught her that. She hated the chancellor, his rules, she hated what our mother went through to keep her a secret.”

“Good is relative Bellamy,” she said quietly as her eyes drifted across the room. 

“No,” he said, standing up to walk over to the sun peeking up from behind the points of the mountain she held in her gaze. Suddenly it was too much, her nearness, the kindness. He was responsible for Octavia, and now Clarke’s mom was dead. “No, there has to have been a reason, a reason beyond Abby breaking a rule,” he rounded on her, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Bellamy,” she said carefully, “what may seem abhorrent to you, with food in your stomach, and the knowledge that Monty can grow more, is something else when the plants wilt and die and you know that for humanity to survive, you have to become a little less human.”

Her words filtered in like water between rocks and the full implications of what she meant made bile rise up in the back of his throat. 

“You mean they had to, to,” he couldn’t say the words. It would make it real. 

“It happened here too you know,” she said, “but with scientists committed to surviving. Not with people used to freedom of choice. She had to take the choice away from them Bellamy. So humanity would continue, in all its glory and darkness," she said, her voice scratching at the end. Her fingers curled into her hands.

“What did Abby do Clarke?” He asked, hesitantly. He didn't really want the answer. He couldn't stand not knowing. 

“Oh, Abby is the one that pushed Octavia to it, doctor knows best” Clarke said, and for a moment Bellamy didn’t recognize the look in her eyes. “And Bellamy, you should know, once I made contact, I didn’t have a different choice for her. All I could do was confirm how trapped they were under Polis.”

His heart sank at what she had though he'd asked, “no, I, I meant what did Abby do to make Octavia…”

“Slice her head off?” Clarke tilted her own, looking over his shoulder. “She became an enemy of Wonkru, the transgression isn’t important once you’re the enemy. I've had enough yelling matches on a radio in a dust bowl to learn that by heart.”

“And you still think I can get through to her, you’ve been the one there, talking her through it-”

“Bellamy,” Clarke said more forcefully, standing up, “please understand me. With the tools on the Eligius ship we can get the bunker open and get the flame. I have no vendetta against Octavia, but she may feel differently about me,” Clarke hesitated. “She never believed me that Shallow Valley wasn’t sustainable. She thought I was lying. That it was an excuse to not dig them out. She hated that I was free in the sun while she was in a grave. She did, she’s doing, terrible things in the name of making it to the surface, to a valley that holds nothing but death. She’s holding on to that, to make it worth it. You need to either talk sense into her, or keep her from getting in my way.”

“Clarke?” Bellamy stepped forward, her stomach sinking, “what do you mean?”

Clarke's eyes narrowed, making him hesitate to come closer. “Eligius coming back when it did was a miracle Bellamy. I had one bullet left in the gun, and it had Madi’s name on it. I’m not wasting the gift I was given. I want to save everyone in that bunker, Octavia included, I really do, but when, or if, push comes to shove, I’m doing what I have to in order for Madi to grow up in a safe and happy place. All this,” and she swung her hand stiffly around the room, at the drawings of Earth, before gesturing to herself, “well, it’s already just a memory to you, isn’t it?” 

It wasn’t the first time that day he’d stared at Clarke in shock. But now he tried to line the edges back up where they had been blurring for him. This woman that he’d fought against, and with, and for. Who had pushed levers down and up to save the most over the few. She was now willing to walk away from a whole planet, from a bunker full of desperate people, in order to save one person. Something he’d done not so long ago for Octavia. How had they switched places like this?

“You made it clear McCreary was willing to let everyone else burn if it meant getting those coordinates too,” he said, watching her eyes widened at the implication. Her mouth twisted and a hand came up to trail the cut on the back of her neck. 

“Like I said, good is relative Bellamy,” she muttered. 

“You’ve changed,” he said, only it wasn’t an accusation, it was an observation. 

Clarke crossed her arms and looked away, “Well I died, that’s what you all thought isn’t it?” she said sourly. “I’m a ghost. What’s your excuse Bell? Used to be you were the one I could count on to go full steam ahead and back me up when shit hit the fan. From bridges to mountains to chips, you were always there. So what happened to you?” She lifted her chin in defiance. The blue eyes challenging him to pick her apart. 

His hands curled into fists, “you died, you left me again, and your parting words were to use my head,” he retorted, the anger sharpening his voice. He shouldn't have yelled. The words seem to slide off the walls as her lips parted and she stepped back from him. A tiger in a cage. They weren’t good at this part. Six years had changed a lot, but unfortunately it hadn’t changed that.

So Bellamy switched tactics. New Clarke, new methods. He took a step forward, and didn’t miss how she leaned back to compensate. “What you said to Shaw, when you were held captive, about you not being the hero, how can you think that? What you did to save us all, you’re a hero, you’re a good person Clarke, why can’t you see that?” 

She shook her head, a line of tears at the edges of her eyes. “It’s easy to think the best of the dead Bellamy.” She turned away from him, toward the door. 

“But you’re not dead Clarke, and I still think the world of you.”

She had taken a step out of the hatch, but paused and looked back over her shoulder, her finger sliding over the pull bar. 

“Bellamy,” her voice ringing hollowly in the space. “I know how I look. How I sound, how this plan sounds. But, please, I need your help to do this. I need us to be us again. Be the Bellamy from Madi’s stories. Maybe when it’s all over, we can get to know each other without, you know, running for our lives all the time.” And there it was, just a few words and a flicker of hope broke into his chest that he was both ashamed of, and willing to feed. 

“How about now?” he asked, before the courage left him or the good sense to keep his mouth shut arrived. 

“Now?” She asked, shifting on her feet as though she couldn’t decide if she should step back in or leave.

“I think it’s time we had that drink Clarke,” he said stepping forward. “You can’t run away from me into the woods up here. And if we’re going to save the world together, again, we should remember how to be those leaders together,” he shrugged, “again.”

“Yeah?” she said a small smile growing on her face, something familiar this time, like he remembered from that long ago Unity Day party at the Dropship, “okay, but not here, not this room, let’s go somewhere we can toast the ground goodbye, while we say hello to each other.”

Bellamy grinned back, “I know just the spot, we’ll kick Murphy out. He’s used to it.” 

“And Bellamy?” She said, her back to him, but her head turned over her shoulder, the visible bruises creeping up her neck beneath the strands of hair, “you should know, I was only ever running from myself, never from you.” At that she stepped through the door, her steps echoing on the metal floor back to him. He waited a bit until the noise faded, his heart pounding with the repercussions of her words before following her out the door.

He didn’t block out what Octavia may have become. He didn’t close his eyes to what Clarke seemed to have transformed herself into to bear the weight alone. But he did close the door on his swirling emotions for a time because he knew that mixed in with the horrible truths, there was an unspoken lie that was holding Clarke Griffin together. 

For the night, for this long-awaited drink, he would lock it all up in that cell and leave it behind, along with drawings of Clarke’s dreams of what the ground would be. The stars she'd drawn weren't the kind you could wish on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're getting a drink! Stay tuned. Comments always appreciated. Happy reading.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drink is had, and a drinking game is played. Also, please drink responsibly when operating spaceships.

Bellamy walked down the halls of the ring, the bottle of moonshine in his hands sloshing liquid back and forth. It had been a few hours since they’d parted ways in Clarke’s old cell. He talked to everyone else, giving them the cliff notes of what Clarke had told them about how the bunker had survived. 

Faces pale, they’d all left to contemplate that their fate had been to wait out the radiation up in these lucky stars, instead of below the earth. Clarke had gone to be with Madi for awhile and rest. Part of him wondered if she would even show up. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy called, walking hesitantly into the control room, looking around the darkened space until he spotted the light crown of hair leaning against the window. Her forehead was pressed against the glass as they orbited above the dry Earth. 

“Window for two is open,” she said, her face turning from the window to face him. 

Bellamy raised his hand to show the offering.

Clarke’s face broke into a smile, “ah, that’s why I missed Monty so much.” She squinted at the bottle, “so how terrible is it?”

“After the first five pulls your taste buds die,” he said. 

“Well, that’s my kind of party,” she replied, walking over and taking the bottle from him and returning to the little alcove. She slid down the wall until her legs were bent in front of her. 

He hung back a moment, relishing the sight of Clarke, actually, alive Clarke sitting there. She took a long drink from the bottle, her face only scrunching up slightly at the taste. Capped it. And leaning her head back against the cold metal. 

“It’s not a party if you make me drink alone.”

“True.” He walked over to sit across from her on the other end of the glass. Their legs both bent in front of them, nearly touching. Clarke set the glass bottle down and shoved it over to him. “Do you guys do this a lot?”

“Get drunk?” Bellamy asked, taking his own sip, the foul mixture sticking in his throat. 

“No, I mean,” she started, then stopped, looking down at her fingers, the nails barely starting to grow back in. Bellamy slide the bottle back over to her and she looked over at him gratefully. She didn’t take another sip right away, but rolled the glass in her hands. 

“Are you asking if we stare out the window and wonder what’s going on down there?” He said, watching her carefully. “Do we wonder if the people we love are still alive?”

“Yeah,” she whispered back, finally taking another sip from the bottle. Bellamy looked away from her, back down at the Earth. The green spot, Shallow Valley, Clarke’s home, whatever he was supposed to call it now, was just coming back into view. 

He took a breath, “every time I had to make a decision, every time I didn’t know what to tell them, or something broke, or rations got tight, or we weren’t sure if life support was going to blink off, I’d come here.” Bellamy said, relaxing his legs, groaning as his knees popped. “I’d come here and think about what you would say, what you would do.” He looked back over at her, gauging her reaction. 

“So you could make sure you did the opposite?” She said, teasing him as the bottle scraped back his way.

“Your last words to me were literally about using my head, remember?” He shot back, grabbing the bottle and taking a breath before more of the liquid tipped back into his throat. 

“I remember everything,” a smile still at the edges of her mouth. “I was doing the same thing you know.”

Bellamy was focusing on not heaving the liquor back up, so her reply confused him. “Of course you were using your head,” he said shaking his own as the need to be sick passed, and the welcomed warmth started to spread at the edges of his fingers and toes.

“No Bellamy,” Clarke said, her hands clasped together in front of her, resting on her knees. She looked back out the window. “I was looking up. Especially at night when I could see the station orbiting. And then when Madi became part of my life, and I had to figure out how to not just keep that little girl alive, but find a way to give her a life worth having, a life filled with laughter, and hope and,” she paused for a moment, “thinking about you, thinking about what you would do, how you might use your heart to make a choice. That’s what I was doing.”

Bellamy stared at her. It was too much. All the feelings that he’d put in a place inside him that would let him find happiness and comfort with Echo, to not just survive but live, rattled around once again. So he just sent the bottle back over, the glass sliding over the metal to her fingers. 

She looked away from the window, tears staining her face now. She picked up the bottle again. 

“Clarke, if I had known,” he began, his fingers shook. 

“No,” she said, tilting the bottle back and taking a longer pull that he’d ever attempted. Bellamy tried to stop, he really did, but six years of having conversations in his head was overriding good sense.

“I should have waited,” he said adamantly. Trying to catch her eyes, hold on to her in some way. 

Clarke sighed, closing her eyes to him instead. There were spots of color on her cheeks now, the liquor starting to catch up with them. The foul taste dimming with each sip. 

“Bellamy, if you waited even a few moments more, then Raven, Murphy, they’d all be dead. The equipment to give you synthetic nightblood was destroyed in the wave, so if you had stayed behind you’d still be dead. And if nothing had gone wrong with that tower, and I had made it, then Madi most likely would be dead.” She glared at him, as though he could challenge her point. Prove the facts wrong. 

“So what you’re saying is, you’ve thought this through?” He asked, shoving his trembling hands away, out of sight.

“I’m saying that the what if’s drive you crazy,” Clarke opened her eyes again. “And no matter which way you look at it, what voice you listen to, the heart or the head, whether you’re staring down, or up, I still end up back here, with you, now, sharing a truly awful drink.”

Bellamy sighed, running his hands through the mess of his hair, rubbing the beard on his face. “I really, really fucking missed you Clarke. Please, don’t die, ever again.”

Clarke let out a laugh that turned into a gasp and a sob broke out. Startled Bellamy started to sit up, to go to her but her outstretched hand, her palm facing him held him in place. She wouldn’t let him do for her, what she’d done for him in that solitary cell. She handed the bottle to him instead, choking back another pained gasp, frantically wiping the tears away. 

They slipped into silence then. Bellamy wishing he could fold her into his arms, wishing he could be the person she would let comfort her. But for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her again he could start to understand who Clarke Griffin was now. 

That first year back on the ship, he’d had the luxury to rage. To punch walls, to lash out. To express how angry he was at the world for losing Clarke, at being separated from Octavia, at being ejected from Earth only two hundred days after they’d gotten there. He knew what it was like to finally let the pain of it out, how it felt like it would never stop. You give it an inch, and it will take all of you. 

Instead of giving Clarke a chance to heal and move forward, the world had handed her a child, and a poisoned apple to feed her with. If she let herself feel it all, maybe she’d never get back up again. He wouldn’t be the one to ask more of her, at least not now. 

“Want to play a game?” He asked instead.

She had managed to wipe away most of the tears, and in a shaky voice she replied, “can I keep drinking?”

“Of course, it’s a drinking game.”

“What are the rules?”

“We call it ‘pity party,’” he said. “Harper named it around year two.”

“Sounds uplifting,” Clarke said dryly, the shakiness disappearing from her voice, “how do you play?”

“So you start out by saying the worst thing that happened to you, and then I’ll say mine. Then we decide who had it worse. Whoever got off easier has to drink.” 

Clarke raised an eyebrow at him. “Am I winning or losing if I drink?”

“Everyone gets to decide their perspective Clarke, no judging,” he said, pretending to be serious. 

“You guys play this for fun?” She asked, a smile twitching at her lips. 

“Well, normally there are more of us,” he said defensively. “And the next round is the most boring thing, and the last is the best thing.”

“So no one floats themselves afterwards?” 

“Yeah, something like that,” Bellamy said setting the bottle in between them now. “Oh, and you can’t say ‘I’m sorry’ or you have to take a penalty drink. I’ll go first.”

Clarke leaned back, her hands resting on her criss crossed knees, a small smile back on her face even though her eyes were red.

He took a breath, “the worst thing I did up here was when Raven told me we weren’t going back at the five year mark. That she hadn’t figured out the fuel problem. I thought about Octavia still in that bunker. I thought about how I was failing you. I thought that if you were in my place you’d have helped Raven find a way.”

Clarke closed her eyes to that, “what did you do?” She asked calmly.

“I got drunk, but I got mean about it. Said some pretty terrible stuff to Raven about how she’s the one that sent you to the radio tower. Broke some things. Generally wallowed and was a piece of shit.” Bellamy searched her expression, but the cool Griffin mask was firmly back in place.

“Wow Bell, you really suck,” she said, but inched the bottle toward him. “And mine is worse.”

“Prove it,” he said, sliding it back to the middle.

“But there’s so many to choose from,” she said lightly. Bellamy knew she was teasing him, but he also knew that it wasn’t a joke. And if she didn’t say it was that she’d been locked in a ship and tortured for months, what could it be?

“Better hurry, one of us might sober up,” he said.

“What a travesty of our hard work,” Clarke said, but she turned back to the window, her face serious. “It was kind of the same as yours actually. I had been keeping track of the days, getting Madi excited for the fifth anniversary. It was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, or mine. I knew the Earth was failing but I still thought maybe Monty could fix it, maybe I was just the problem.” Something inside Bellamy bottomed out at the thought of Clarke looking up on that day, wondering why they wouldn’t come back down. 

“So, obviously you guys stood us up, and I just kind of,” Clarke waved her hand in front of her, “well I wasn’t a good mom that day. I made Madi feel like she wasn’t enough, like a life where it was just the two of us forever would be the worst thing. I scared her. I’d been trying to keep the worst of it from her and that day, I just couldn’t.” 

“Ouch,” Bellamy said nonchalantly, as though the words didn’t pierce him. This was part of the game. You get to throw the dirt up from your soul without asking for sympathy. Not a lot of guide books on the ring for the emotionally traumatized. 

“Yup.”

“Fine, so, who do we think had it worse?” Bellamy asked glancing down at the bottle, then back up at Clarke. She was raising her hand, “really?”

“Mom guilt always wins,” she said inching the bottle over toward him with her toes. 

“Ugh, fine. You win this time Griffin,” Bellamy picked up the bottle and took a swig. It was starting to get to him. He could almost believe he was back in a dream. The way she wore the blankets around her, her hair clean of blood. You couldn’t see the bruises and cuts that he knew lined her limbs. The ones on her face were obscured in the shadows of the moon’s light. 

“So next is the most boring?” she asked, leaning forward now. “Can I go first?”

“Yes Princess, by all means,” Bellamy said setting the bottle down, the clink a little harder as he lost another measure of control. 

“So, every night I would tell Madi bedtime stories. And while she loved all the big exciting ones, especially when the shining knight Bellamy Blake came in and rescued the day,” Bellamy could feel a blush that had nothing to do with the liquor racing up his face, “the one she loved best was me explaining how a damn radio worked.” 

“No!” Bellamy gasped in mock shock. 

“Yup,” she said, her lips popping on the last syllable, “I had to remember and explain in finite detail how to rewire a radio. About eight times a night. Raven’s name was a curse word at some point.”

“This should have been your Worst,” Bellamy said. “But, you are going to lose.”

“Big talk,” she said, leaning forward, her hands cupping her cheeks. Her eyelids closing a little heavier with each blink. 

“I have, just to kill the time, translated all of Tolstoy in our data archives to Trig.”

Clarke’s eyes opened wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. Emori and Echo can read perfect English, but I got it into my head that we were forcing them to watch, read, and listen to everything in something that wasn’t their native language. And maybe they would enjoy it more.”

“Did they?”

“Echo likes to use Anna Karenina as an extra weight on her back as she does push ups.”

“Grounders make for interesting girlfriends Bellamy,” Clarke said picking up the bottle, and taking her sip. 

“Does this mean I won?” He asked, trying not to think about how her voice had rested on the word ‘“girlfriend.”

“It means we’re tied,” Clarke corrected him. “Now it’s the happiest memory right?

“Yes, thank fuck,” he said, slowly grabbing it back from her and carefully, carefully placing near empty bottle back between them.

“I have a really good one,” Clarke said, her face shining in a way that made him break into a smile. A part of him wishing it was about him, and he quickly shoved that voice away. That wasn’t allowed. 

“So, it was about three months after I’d found the valley, and Madi,” she began, sitting up straighter, her eyes animated as she talked. “She finally trusted me enough to help her take a bath and wash her hair in the stream by our home. We just had this really lovely day, playing and laughing in the sun. And at the end of it we climbed up to an overlook and made a fire and I pointed out the station as it went by in the stars. I told her stories about you and our friends, and my mom and dad. She let me braid her hair, and then she just fell asleep on me. It’s when I realized I loved her. It’s when I became her mom.”

Clarke’s hands were in the air as she described braiding Madi’s hair, the look in her eyes so wistful and soft that Bellamy couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing onto her hands, pulling them between his own. The tears that rolled down her cheeks were from happiness this time. “You’re a good one you know, you’re a good mom Clarke.”

Clarke sucked in a breath, ducking her head. “Now yours,” she said, but didn’t try to pull her hand away from his. 

Bellamy shook himself a little, trying to focus on what he would tell her. Memories of times when he laughed through dinners with Monty, or watched Raven’s face as she spacewalked flitted through his mind. Fragments of moments with Echo came and went but it didn’t feel like something Clarke would want to hear about. Finally, he settled on something he hoped would remind her of the child that still needed saving. 

“I found all the archived footage of the kids locked up in the skybox. I think the guards had saved a few videos for comedic relief and Octavia appears in like ten of them.”

“Really?” Clarke asked carefully, her eyes wary now, “what’s she doing?” 

Bellamy grinned, “dancing, yelling, making fun of the guards, flipping them off, just generally being Octavia. And I know she’s locked up and sad that our mom’s just been floated and she’s thinking that she’s going to be killed when she turns eighteen, but she’s screaming at the top of her lungs because she can. She’s more free in that cell, being seen, then she ever was hidden away in our little apartment. It made me feel like she was still close. I’d keep the audio on while I ran laps, talk to her in my head.” 

Something in Clarke’s expression faltered then as she pulled her hands from his, but she wiped it off as quickly as it came and Bellamy couldn’t decide if it had just been a trick of the light, or the moonshine thrumming through him. 

“That’s a really great story Bellamy, she’s going to love to hear it when we get that bunker open,” she said, smiling at him reassuringly. 

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back. But he grabbed the bottle as he did, taking the final bit down until it was dry.

“I won?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Bellamy said, turning back to the window as Clarke did. Their reflections mirrored in the glass. 

“How much longer do you think we can get away with sitting here?” She asked quietly. 

“Lots of windows,” Bellamy mumbled out, his eyes getting heavy. “We’re not blockin’ anyone’s view.”

“Good, because I’m not tired,” Clarke said, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Clarke?”

“Mmm,” she said, and he knew that she was drifting off. 

“Did you mean it? About leaving Octavia, and Wonkru behind. If you had to, would you take the code and leave them there?”

For a moment he thought she had fallen asleep on him, but then her eyes opened and stared out at the emptiness. 

“Did you know I was in solitary, before Abby put me in the dropship?”

Her sudden departure from his question confused him, and he wondered if it was the moonshine getting to her. But her eyes shifted over to look at him, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, Miller mentioned it once when we were on watch and I was complaining about you. Then when we got up here I looked up your file. Six months in solitary. Long time to be alone.”

Clarke brought her fingertips to touch the cool glass, she leaned her cheek against it. “Alone. That’s how I started this. That’s how I ended up after Praimfaya. Alone. I got really good at it. I’m really good at bad things.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, feeling the words heavy in his mouth. 

“I won’t give up on them,” she whispered, her eyes glassy now. “I shouldn’t have said that about Octavia, about Wonkru. I, I won’t leave her Bellamy, I promise. No matter what. I won’t give up. No again. You opened the door for Madi. We’ll find a way to save Octavia and the rest of them.”

“I know Clarke,” he said, reaching up to tuck the piece of hair that had fallen in her face, the skin smooth beneath his fingertips. 

“Bellamy?” She said, her voice fading, her eyes closing.

“Yeah Princess?” He asked, the control room fading to black.

“Just don’t give up on me,” she said as he pulled her down from her seat at the window and they made their escape into oblivion.   
***

Bellamy woke up hours later in a start, his heart beating rapidly, his tongue thick and dry. Clarke was still there though, curled up in the space next to him on the control room floor. His side warm from where she’d tucked herself against him. The blankets fallen from her shoulders.

Slowly, his head still fuzzy he wrapped the blankets back around her. Then, trying to remember where the worst of the cuts were he slid his arms under her and lifted her up. He carried her to the room they’d set up for her and Madi. The little girl’s form just visible in the emergency lighting. He laid Clarke down beside her, and she instinctively wrapped her arm around the child. 

He wondered if that’s how they always slept in the valley. He always wondered a lot of things about Clarke, and thought he could stand there a long time, thinking them over. But instead he remembered that the bottle was empty, the night was nearly gone, and Echo would wonder where he was. Echo had a right to wonder where he was.

But, instead of sliding into bed with his girlfriend, he wandered back into the control room, and stood by the window again, staring at the broken Earth. He was on his way to free his sister. To show her, unbelievably, a new world for a second time. So why did he feel so scared? Didn’t he have everything back that he’d ever wanted?

There was that thing Murphy had said. About Bellamy jumping to follow Clarke’s orders. It echoed back to an evening in a trading lodge. “The good little knight by his queen’s side.” Raven had been under Allie’s influence, but the words had always held an edge of truth to them. But now, six years later without a Queen or Princess to guide them, he’d become a King. 

So, as he leaned an arm against the window, staring down at the planet, he reached for the threads of what he knew about Clarke Griffin, and like the seamstress’s son he was, he started to find a different pattern.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations in space.

And just like that, they were figuring out how to save the human race, again.

Or, like Clarke pointed out, they weren’t necessarily saving it. They had no reason to think Eligius III hadn’t made it to the new planet. So in a way humanity was saved, they were just mopping up the stragglers. 

Shaw and Clarke believed she had given away the location to the bunker, and probably the idea that the code was in another AI. She saw no other reason why McCreary would have left her alone in the room, other than thinking she was well on her way to being brain dead, the information he’d been searching for now in his grasp.

The good news was that whatever remained of McCreary’s team on the ground now had as much firepower and ability to break open the bunker as Clarke had had for the last 5 years. Meaning nothing. 

They had some time on their side, but not much. The bunker had been on its last legs even before Clarke had gotten herself captured. They needed off this planet, sooner rather than later. Which meant finding the code was priority. 

As Shaw and Spacekru got to work packing up the Ring, and fixing the Gagarin to get it ready to head back to Eligius and and another roundtrip to Earth to pick up Wonkru , Clarke and Madi wandered the Ring, letting their bodies heal for the adventure ahead, answering questions as they could. 

“Do we really want to bring dangerous prisoners with us to a new planet?” Raven asked skeptically, two days after her evening drink with Bellamy. Clarke had wandered into the mechanic’s room looking for a break from discussing the finer points of cryo chambers with Shaw while Murphy glowered in a corner. 

“More like I don’t want to decide their fate,” Clarke said, exhaling as she touched her toes. “They believed they were going to a new planet when they followed McCreary. If it all goes to plan they’ll still wake up to that reality, just not with McCreary in charge. It’s a problem for another day, one a century away in fact.”

“Clarke,” Raven paused in her efforts at her work table, waiting until the blonde sat back, her hand immediately circling the watch again. “About Abby, I’m-”

“Sorry, I know,” Clarke said, “but she knew what she was doing, she knew the consequences.”

“Octavia didn’t have to kill her,” Raven said, dragging her palm across her forehead, the ponytail up in a constant tight knot.

“No,” Clarke said quietly, “she didn’t. And she’ll get to live with that, just like we get to live with all the shit we’ve done.”

“How did you live with it? Down there? All alone?” Raven fiddled with a piece of plastic in her palm her eyes darting over to Clarke. 

“I forgot how quiet space could be,” Clarke said in place of an answer, staring now at the red jacket on the hook of the door. “The ground was loud in a way. Sometimes it felt like it was screaming at me to listen but I-” she broke off, realizing Raven was staring at her oddly. 

“You can talk to us, to me, about it all,” Raven said quietly, “if you want.”

“I did already,” Clarke said, “you guys just couldn’t get the signal.”

“Yeah, Madi said you were always fiddling with the radio, trying to reach us, did you call a lot?”

A smile crooked at her mouth, “once or twice.”

Raven nodded, “and how many times did you call Bellamy?”

Clarke opened her mouth but then closed it into a thin line. “Exactly how much did Madi tell you about the radio calls?”

Raven lifted her chin, “he and Echo, they’re good for each other.”

Clarke stood, wavering at first but found her balance. Even in the few days she’d been walking about the ship she’d found her strength again, the Eligius protein bars Bellamy kept tossing at her in passing helping to make the cheekbones less prominent in her face. 

As a matter of fact, that’s all he’d been doing lately. Passing by on his way to grab something from a room, to bring Raven a missing tool, to sort through scrap metal they might need. So many years of wishing she could talk to him face to face and here he was, but too busy to slow down and chat awhile. 

“That’s nice,” Clarke finally said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, “why do you think I’d have a problem with that?”

Raven raised her hands up, “just making conversation Clarke. And don’t worry, I know how to keep a secret, but I can’t say the same about your kid.”

“You’d be surprised,” Clarke said softly, walking over to the door, “bring the jacket Raven. I always drew you with it on, Madi will get a kick out of seeing it in real life.”

Raven listen to the steps drift away in the hallway. She got up and lifted the quilted fabric off the hook, sliding her arms through the red sleeves, the faint aroma of rocket fuel still present.

***

“Madi?” Bellamy said entering the small room she had been sharing with Clarke the last week. They were all in prep mode, and Raven had figured out quickly that Madi was going to get into stuff she shouldn’t if she wasn’t given a task she felt appropriately ‘important’ enough. Which meant steering her away from where Shaw was itemizing the Eligius weapons in the Gagarin transport, and over to cleaning up all their radios. 

Clarke was sleeping a lot when she wasn’t with Madi or going over maps of Polis with Shaw and Murphy. Mostly to keep the two from sniping at each other. Bellamy had given her the heads up that Murphy might be planning payback, Clarke had rolled her eyes and said something that sounded like “shocky shocky gonna come out and play.” So he hoped she was handling it. He’d been calming Murphy’s tantrums for six years with little success.

So he left them to it and took to wandering the halls some more when he had heard a frustrated yell coming from the room Madi and Clarke had taken over. He hesitated before knocking, still somewhat scared that this was all a grand hallucination, the idea that Clarke had a room on the Ring. 

The small voice ringed out behind it though, reminding him one more time that reality was a strange slice. “Madi?” He called out. 

“Yeah, come in,” the girl said, and he opened the door to find her sitting with her chin in her cupped hands, so like Clarke a few afternoons ago that he had to shake himself to see the long dark curls that spilled down the little frame. And darker blue eyes that were rubbed red at the strewn of radio pieces. 

“You okay?” He asked, concern hitting him as he moved quickly into the room, reaching for her head. Had Harper and Clarke missed some injury on her from their escape? 

She stared up at him in confusion as he squatted down to her level to turn her head this way and that, trying to find some visible injury. They stared at each other for a moment, and he suddenly felt foolish. For her part, a grin grew on her face, her eyes crinkling in amusement. 

“I’m fine Bellamy, Clarke never mentioned what a worry-wart you were. You’re worse than her when I was first learning how to drive the Rover.”

He sighed, collapsing back in the chair opposite her on the other side of the table. The overhead lamp shining down on the impromptu workstation.

“She let you drive the Rover? Can you even see over the steering wheel?”

Madi scowled at him, “yes, Clarke made the pedals stick up higher. I’m a great driver, I wish we could bring it with, might be handy on the new planet.”

“We’ll see,” Bellamy said, “if there’s time I’d love to see Shallow Valley, Clarke makes it sound beautiful.”

Madi nodded, her face full of the quiet concentration he remembered from Clarke’s when she’d work on a drawing, or a map, or figure out if mass murder was on the menu. They needed better hobbies. 

“It was, we made it nice. For us. And, for all of you for when you returned. Even when things went sour Clarke said it was good to have goals, she said we needed to keep planning, keep moving forward.”

“That sounds like Clarke,” Bellamy said, nodding along even though that familiar tightness he carried around in him these days spun another inch tighter. “And I hear you’re taking care of our radios-Clarke mentioned you were interested in them.” 

“I hate radios.” Madi said, the heat in her voice startling him. 

“Oh,” Bellamy said, feeling out of balance. “Sorry, Clarke said that you were always asking for instructions on how to fix them, I can take over. We’ve just mostly settled for yelling at each other up here, small spaces in space,” he said, trying to coax a smile from the child. To no avail, her scowl deepened and she looked up at him.

“I only did that because I wanted you to answer back. Any of you. She tried her best to hide it. I knew she was lonely. I knew she was scared she didn’t get the systems on in time on that radio tower. I could hear her crying in the Rover at night when she thought I was asleep. Clicking that radio on and off, again and again. It only got worse when the food started making her sick. It was the only way I could think to help.” 

“Madi, I’m,” Bellamy stopped, there weren’t words for it. 

“I know,” she said sullenly, her glare turning from him to the radio parts, “you’re sorry. Raven already explained that it wouldn’t have mattered if I fixed that radio. I get it.”

He sighed, “I’m glad she had you Madi. I’ll never be able to repay you for being there. I can see how much she loves you.”

She idly moved the spare parts around the table, flicking at them with her fingertips. “Maybe if I had some of these parts I could’ve made it work. The last few years we even had to take the guts out of the radio she used to talk to you, to fix the one at the Bunker so we could keep talking to Bloodreina. Last working parts went to her, just so she could yell at Clarke and call her a liar. Clarke still used it though, even more so, pretending you would answer, clicking a button on and off for no reason.”

Some part of Bellamy died in that moment. That sudden flash of Clarke, rational, practical, head-first Clarke, using an empty radio to talk to him, trying to reach out. While he, what? Played drinking games with Murphy? Sparred with Echo before pulling her to their cabin room. Watched pre-war movies with Raven as she stared at the fuel calculations. It had gotten easier to forget in the day to day. Forget Clarke. 

Madi was staring at him again, and he saw the challenge in her eyes. Even as something behind the guilt tapped in his skull. 

“We didn’t know Madi. We had no idea she survived. No reason to believe she was waiting. If we had...” he trailed off. What would have been different, if he’d known?

She sighed, that glimmer of anger fading and leaving just a kid, trying to stay afloat. “No, I’m sorry. All I wanted for so long was to meet you, all of you, I think I expected you to leap off the pages of the drawings and instead everything it just a little...off. Clarke’s stories were for a kid, what she thought I could handle. Guess she was right.”

“Well, I don’t know about Clarke’s stories, but maybe I can tell you some new ones. I’m partial to the Greeks and the Romans actually,” Bellamy offered, wanting so badly to make this child smile. It seemed to work, Madi’s mouth twitched upward. 

“Okay, as long as we don’t have to talk about radios ever again,” she said mischievously, “but only if you tell it right, don’t skip the blood and gore, I can handle it.”

Bellamy laughed, “deal,” he said, reaching over the table to shake her hand. She stared at it in confusion, before opening her eyes wide in recognition.

“Oh, right,” she said reaching out her small one and fit it into his. “Deal.” Grinning widely now, her legs swinging in the chair she seemed to flit between carefree child and wise adult within the whisper of a breath. 

Bellamy released her hand and stared down at the tech in front of him, “I can handle this, Raven deemed me capable of simple repairs after the first year. I had to stop Emori from making me a merit badge.”

“Excellent,” Madi said, shoving the chair away from the table, and hopping up, “I’ll go see if Shaw needs help with those weapons.”

Bellamy shook his head, smiling, as he reached toward the scattered pieces. Shifting them around on the table when it suddenly hit him. A slick, cold fear down his back.

“Madi?” He asked, trying to make his voice sound normal, she paused in the doorway, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Yeah?”

“You and Clarke, the only working radios you had were at the Bunker right?”

“That’s right,” Madi nodded, her head tilted in confusion. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything valuable, tech-wise in the valley still.”

“Nope,” Madi said, “just the Rover and some crispy Eligius people, anything else?”

“No,” he said, staring hard at the pieces in front of him, “go ahead.”

She waved her hand back and stepped lightly out of the room as Bellamy waited for his heart to slow. Clarke’s story of how she had heard about McCreary, and Cadogan. Of codes in a bunker. She had said she’d placed radios around the transport ship. That’s how she’d come up with this plan. But if what Madi was saying was true...then Clarke had lied. 

***

“And why do we need this Diyoza again?” Murphy asked as he moved boxes around the Gagarin. They were going to have to fit all remaining members of Wonrku in here to get them up to the Eligius ship, and the prisoners hadn’t exactly left it in good shape. Weapons tossed carelessly, boxes of spare parts, debris littered everywhere. 

They needed enough safe spaces for people to hold on to without something falling and crushing them for take off. Murphy had volunteered himself and Clarke had followed him, wandering around the transport ship she’d spent so much time in, but hadn’t really seen. They didn’t talk about the trail of dried black blood staining the floors. 

“Information and control,” Clarke responded absently. “She was pretty high level in the government before she went off and started saving people. Plus Shaw says that a lot of the prisoner’s rebelled because they admired her, not McCreary. If he shows up down there, they’ll follow her orders over his. She could be useful.”

“Isn’t she pregnant?” Murphy said, pawing through a box of plates and cups. Even prisoners on an asteroid have to eat.

“Yeah, I’m thinking that story McCreary spun about it not being safe to wake her up from cryo was a load of shit.” Clarke said, peering into another crate, the blonde hair falling into her face. The bruises had faded to a very light blue. She moved more easily now, the fingernails starting to fill back in. Even her neck only needed a bandage over the cut, the burns and flashes on her skin receding. 

“Think she’ll let us kill her baby’s father?” Murphy asked, coming over to push the strap a bungee cord around the boxes they’d piled to stop them from tipping over onto anyone in the vicinity. 

“I mean,” Clarke pulled on a door handle outside of the room they were organizing but it beeped red on a control panel next to it, “one can dream, Murphy, one can dream.”

“So, where was your little fun room?” Murphy said, walking up to where she stood, hands on hips, glaring at the little light. “I bet Shaw knows.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You need to get over this Shaw thing Murphy,” she said.

“I need to get over the fact that he helped torture my friend?”

“Consider it a personal favor. I’d like to take a nap without worrying he’ll give you a concussion when you come after him.”

Murphy’s face transformed into mock hurt, “you think he can beat me?”

Clarke glared at him. “Just because you feel bad every time you look at me doesn’t mean you get to take it out on him.”

Murphy’s mouth twisted, “that’s not what I’m-” 

“Yes, it is,” Clarke said. “And I don’t know if it’s some weird outlet for your survivor’s guilt, or what, but knock it off. This,” and she waved a hand at her face, “is not your fault. I’m good with him. You be good with him. Got it?”

He stared hard at her, fighting some kind of internal battle. Finally he nodded slightly. Turning back to the panel, his fingers shaking slightly.

“So,” he said, still looking away from her, “think that A.I. McCreary used on you is still in there? Maybe we could use it on him. Give him a taste of his own medicine if your little pyro didn’t manage to kill him” he said, pulling a screwdriver out of his toolbelt. Raven had all made them one, tired of them misplacing the precious few tools they had. 

Clarke paused, tilting her head, considering it. “You go looking for it. The only AI I care about is in the bunker.”

“Is it about Lexa?” Murphy asked, and Clarke stilled, slowly turning to look at him, his features hard to read in the dim lighting. 

“Explain?” Clarke asked, her voice betraying no emotion as Murphy bent down to unscrew the control panel at the offending door. 

“Well, she’s still in the flame right?” Murphy said, focusing on the screws slowly turning their way out. “Maybe you just want to think Becca stuck the coordinates in there so you can have a little flame meet up date.”

“The City of Light was different Murphy. I wouldn’t be grabbing a drink with Lexa in some make believe universe. It’s not her. Not in the way that matters.”

“For a ghost you’re pretty literal Griffin,” Murphy said, mumbling around the flashlight in his mouth. He didn’t bother asking Clarke to hold it for him. 

“You still think I’m making all this up?” Clarke said, leaning against the wall, her hands rubbing the cut on her neck. 

“Oh I for sure think the Earth is toast and trying our luck somewhere else beats wasting away up here. But that doesn’t mean you’re still not hiding something from us,” he said, peeling off the metal plate to reveal the wires beneath.

“What do you think I’m hiding?” Clarke asked, curiously.

Murphy didn’t answer, just traced to wires back to their roots and pulled. The door blinked red, then green. He raised an eyebrow and swung the door open. “Yahtzee,” he said peering into it.

“Guns?” Clarke asked

“They’re just so beautiful Clarke,” he grinned, stepping into the armory but her hand around his arm stopped him. 

“Murphy,” she said, and the sound in her voice pulled him back.

His grin faded, and he stepped toward her, lightly grasping her hand. “It’s okay to lose your mind a little Clarke. It’s okay to hate us for getting to be safe while you were being a cockroach, obviously I have _feelings_ about it” he laid a hand over hers, “I’m certainly not going to fault you for yours.”

For a moment Clarke thought about telling him. Telling him about pressing a radio button down in the rain for hours waiting to hear them. Of not knowing if a thought was really hers. Instead she simply squeezed his hand back, not trusting her voice and slipped out of his grasp, her arms tight around herself against the cold seeping into the hull.

“Oh, hey Clarke,” he called back as she heard the rattle of guns rustling around. 

“Yeah?”

“If you do totally lose your marbles, can I inherit the kid? I find her creepy yet amusing.”

“Careful what you wish for Murphy,” Clarke said, walking away from the man and back toward the airlock. Images of Lexa’s face swirling around in her mind, the emptiness there making it clear that something was missing. She may be hiding something. But it was hidden from her as well.

***

Today was the day. They were off to dock with the big ship, wake up Diyoza, and finally, finally open up the bunker and free his sister.

Bellamy was freaking out. 

Echo had come into their little shared room to find out what the hold up was. It was bare. They’d stripped every nut, bolt, blanket, and useable item they could. Who knew what the new planet had? They were carrying a museum of sorts. Filled with all the bits and pieces of humanities triumphs and follies. 

She stood in the doorway, her suit tied at the waist, sword in hand, staring at him. 

“Feeling nostalgic?” She asked cooly, and Bellamy let it slide over him. She had a right to be angry. He spent the evenings stalking the ring. The days busy with preparations. He was avoiding her. To be fair, he was avoiding everyone. It’s hard to look your friends in the eyes when they find out your sister turned cannibal. 

“Just, wanted to make one last check,” he finished lamely.

She rolled her eyes, but stepped into their room, walking up close to him. He reached out and touched the ends of her long brown hair. Her expression softening. 

“I’ve missed you,” she said, “I’ve missed us.”

“Me too,” he said, “I didn’t mean for-”

“Things to change? Things always change Bellamy, we’ve had a respite, a time outside of time. But now it’s over.”

Bellamy swallowed, the pain in his chest a dull hollow ache. He wasn’t surprised, he’d been letting his heart break for a week. 

“I don’t want it to be over,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to trail down her cheek. 

“You’re my family,” Echo said, the faintest bit of tears in her eyes as she captured his hand. “That will never be over, but-”

“But we are?” He supplied the ending for her. 

“It’s very rare to get second chances Bellamy. The world hands out so few of them. Don’t waste it, don’t make this hurt for nothing.”

If Bellamy could have spoken then, he would have told her how much she meant to him. How much it meant that he could grow to love the spy, and how it had made him whole. How he’d loved that she had needed him too. How safe it had felt that no one could walk away from each other on a spaceship. Up here, they were somehow perfect for each other. But up here, was ending. 

So he said nothing, and let his fingers trail off the ends of her hair. Wiping away the tears on her face. As she did for him. 

As they walked down the halls of the ring for the last time he could feel her body shifting, moving more quietly, the years of training never leaving. But she wasn’t the same spy from the ground. He wasn’t the same angry man lashing out. They’d changed each other for the better, and now the ground would get to meet them. Octavia would get to meet him. He wondered if she would like the brother that was coming to greet her. He wondered if he’d recognize the sister beneath the Red Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for all the comments and kudos they make it all more fun. I'm off the grid for a week so I made it a longer one.


	16. Chapter 16

“And that space kids, is how it’s done,” Shaw said brightly as the Gagarin connected with Eligius. 

“Glad you’re not totally incompetent,” Raven said, ignoring the dirty look he sent her as she unbuckled her seat belt. 

“You should be nicer to me, I’m giving you the controls to a giant spaceship and all of cryo population,” he said, unsnapping his own restraints.

“That’s right,” Raven said, “I have control over all the little prisoners. So maybe you should be-”

“Oh Sweet Jesus just fuck already,” Murphy groaned, and both Raven and Shaw’s faces burned red. 

“Murphy,” huffed Clarke, nodding over to Madi, “shut the fuck up, there are children present.”

Madi started giggling uncontrollably at that, and the peals of laughter were infectious. They were all nervous, all anxious, all lacked sleep and were mostly scared out of their minds at what they’d find in that bunker, and who might already be waiting for them near it, but something about a kid laughing at a dirty word had a way of breaking the tension.

Clarke glanced over at the only one that wasn’t laughing. Monty. Of all of them, he’d taken the news that they might have to fight, or kill to protect those within the bunker the hardest. He and Octavia had been friends on earth. She had been one of the few who Jasper had connected to at his darkest moments. He’d hated what the ground had made him, had loved what peace on the ark had given him back. 

Clarke kept trying to think of ways to approach him, but kept backing out of them, cowardly hoping that Harper could nudge him along. She hoped the next thing she had to tell him would be a relief, instead of an additional burden. 

“Come along natblida,” Clarke said placing her hands lightly on Madi’s back and guiding her to the door. “And remember, don’t-”

“Touch anything,” Madi replied rolling her eyes, but leaning into Clarke’s side despite it. Clarke didn’t know which gods to thank that Madi had mostly recovered her irreverent, playful ways in the days since they’d pushed off the ground. 

“But seriously Madi,” Shaw said, turning, releasing the air lock as the transport ship doors opened up to a silent, low-lit hallway, “keep those pyro habits off the spaceship. You want a new planet, you got to treat the ride nicely.”

They all walked off the Gagarin and paused momentarily in the eerily silent hall. “Nice.” Madi noted, then wandered off, ignoring Clarke’s calls. 

“I think you have a discipline problem Clarke,” Murphy said, “have you considered corporal punishment?”

“Have you considered wearing Shaw’s shock collar?” Clarke replied acidicly. Moving to follow Monty and Harper. 

“I’ll get Diyoza,” Shaw said awkwardly, turning to the left, hands in pockets. His former colonel was about to get a very surprising wake up. 

The rest of them scattered within the ship. Besides Clarke, Madi, and Shaw, exploring the Eligius vessel was the first time they’d seen a new place in over half a decade. 

Clarke stayed silent as she followed behind Monty and Harper. The latter twisting and turning to look around, her hand placed on the holster of her gun. Monty carried the algae farm kit, and he scanned the name of the doors, looking for a place suitable to keep it. 

Monty opened the door to a room marked “pathology” and they entered to find a dust covered lab. He set the aglae tank down on the nearest table, defeat lining his face. 

“This looks good babe,” Harper said as the three stood around it. 

“I wish the bunker would have had one,” he said mournfully, “maybe then Octavia wouldn’t have-”

“Monty, it was more than just the hydro farm failing that made things what they are,” Clarke said. 

“But it could have saved hundreds,” he whispered. 

“It saved us, Monty,” Harper said reaching forward to grab his hand. 

“Yeah, just so we could go back down and potentially start killing them anyway.”

“About that,” Clarke asked hesitantly, waiting for Harper and Monty to meet her gaze. “What if you didn’t, go back down to Earth.”

“What do you mean?” Harper asked, “I thought the whole plan was around getting the coordinates out of the bunker?”

“It is,” Clarke said, “but Raven is staying up on the ship during it, and I was wondering if you two would as well. Madi is going to go ballistic over this, but she’s not coming with. I’m keeping her up here, away from the cannibals. If I don’t make it back, I’d hope that you two might take her on, so to speak.” Monty and Harper looked at each other, expressions wide in disbelief, Clarke let out a shaky breath.

“Clarke, you’re going to be fine,” Harper said, “and we’re not leaving our family to go down there on their own.”

Clarke looked at Monty. He bowed his head. “Harper, I think prior experience has shown us I have a problem making it back to the ship in time,” Clarke said, smiling sadly. “There’s going to be a lot going on down there, a lot of terrible shit to deal with, and if I know Madi is safe, if I know that even if I don’t make it, she’ll be with you, it will make it all easier.”

“No!” Harper said aghast, “this isn’t okay, Clarke, this isn’t-”

“We’ll do it,” Monty said. 

“Monty,” Harper hissed, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Clarke saved our lives. I’m saying that I don’t want to take anyone else’s. I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you Harper. I’m saying I’ve known Madi a week and I love her, Jasper would have loved her. I’m saying I’m a farmer. Not a warrior.”

Monty’s eyes shone with tears. He grasped Harper’s hands. “Please, stay with me. We can help our family by being ready for them when they come back up. You know there will be injured. I know they’ll need to eat.”

Harper looked down, biting her lip. Clarke was holding her breath. “Harper, it’s a big ask, but I wouldn’t make it if I didn’t trust you with Madi. You saved my life too.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “We stay.”

***

Clarke found her daughter in a room filled with discarded guard’s uniforms. She assumed when the prisoners had taken over the ship they had stripped and jettisoned the crew from the air locks. Now all that was left were piles of shoes and clothing. Madi was in the middle, sorting through them.

“You don’t need boots like these in space Madi,” Clarke said, folding herself down to sit on the lumps of clothing. “Your soft ones are better, make less noise on the metal floors.”

“I know,” Madi said, sighing as she stripped fabric and started balling it up and pushing it into the toes of a pair of boots. “But mine are so full of holes now, and if that sandstorm just ended there are going to be bits of glass everywhere and-”

She paused in her ramblings, her hands falling down into her lap as she stared up at Clarke. Her expression reordering into disbelief as she read Clarke’s face. 

“No!” She stood up, towering over Clarke, her small hands balled into fits, the thick brown braid tossed over her shoulder. “You’re not leaving me behind, not again.”

“It’s not safe for you Madi,” Clarke said patiently. “I can’t risk Octavia thinking of you as a threat, she’s too unstable.”

“I don’t care about Bloodreina,” Madi said, hot pink spots on her cheek, “I care about helping you find those coordinates, or the key, or whatever it is. You need my help, you know I’m better at finding things, your vision is terrible.” She crossed her arms and Clarke couldn’t help but think how tall and gangly she’d gotten in the last few months. 

“It’s not just Bloodreina Madi, McCreary could be out there. I can’t risk it.”

“I was in way more danger when you left me alone before!” Madi spat out, “you don’t even know how many times they almost caught me, how many times I had a gun pointed at one of those soldier’s heads because he got too close to my hiding spots, how-”

“Enough,” Clarke said, holding up a hand, “I didn’t have a choice. Now I do. You’re the kid. I’m the parent. This is how it’s going to be. You’re staying up here with Harper, Monty, and Raven.”

“Why, so you can go down there and talk to her again?” Madi said, her whole little body trembling. 

Clarke pulled back, unfolding her legs and standing up now, taking advantage of what little height she still had over her. “You know I have to talk to Octavia, it’s why we needed to get Bellamy, he’ll-“

“No, I don’t mean Octavia,” Madi said, looking down now, “I mean the person you talk to when you think I can’t hear you.”

“I don’t understand,” Clarke said hesitantly, reaching out and tilting Madi’s chin up. “I talked on the radio to the ring. To Bellamy. You know that, I never hid that.”

“You talk to someone else too,” Madi whispered, and a coil of fear split down Clarke’s spine. The spaces in her mind feeling wider. “Or you yell at her, at least, I think it’s a her.” Her voice was small now, tears filling the blue eyes. How many secrets could the last two people walking the earth keep from each other?

Clarke swallowed nervously, sweat broke out on her palms. She dropped her hands to Madi’s arms and pulled her little form closer to her. “Baby, you know that all of this, this is all for you. I’m going to come back up. I’m going to be fine.”

“You don’t even know you do it, do you?” Madi said, pulling away from her, arms crossed now. “Guess you really are going crazy, that’s what Murphy said.”

Clarke looked up to the ceiling, willing herself to stay calm. “Murphy should mind his own damn business.”

“Does Bellamy know?” She said accusingly, “does he know what you and Abby tried to do?” 

“No. That doesn’t matter now.” Clarke said, trying to keep her voice even. “I know you’re scared baby, but this is how it’s got to be.” Clarke hated how it sounded, she hated how the ends of her voice pleaded. 

“Why should I trust you?” Madi said, streaks going down her cheeks, “you don’t even know that you’ve lost it. I should tell Bellamy that you’re crazy, that you talk to people that aren’t there, that you’re a liar, you’re a liar, you’re lying! You haven’t even told him what really got Abby killed you-” 

Suddenly, Clark was kneeling in front of her, a hand over her mouth, clamping it closed. Madi’s eyes wide and startled above her hand. “Listen to me. Now.” Clarke said, her voice low. “I know you’ve had to grow up too fast. I know you’ve seen horrible things. I know you’re scared. But when have I ever let you down? Hmmm?” Madi’s eyes narrowed at her, but she didn’t speak as Clarke moved her hand away. “That’s right natblida. Never. And I’m not about to start now.”

Clarke stepped away from her daughter, giving her space to run, to flee, to yell insults at her. But she didn’t. By whatever miracles in the world Madi wrapped her arms around her and Clarke leaned down, burying her face in the hair that still smelled somehow like sunshine and trees.

“You don’t talk to her up here,” She whispered into her chest, and Clarke’s fingers tightened into the tangled mess of hair. 

“I don’t think she can reach me here,” Clarke whispered back, “I think we should go far, far away where she can’t find us.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Neither heard or saw Bellamy step away from the door, the eavesdropped conversation ricocheting around his mind. He tried to tell himself Madi was overreacting, or misunderstanding. But he couldn’t. In his mind the threads of the mystery that was Clarke Griffin were almost unraveled. And he’d never hated anything more than having to see it come undone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angst is real. One the eve of the big mission there's forgiveness, misunderstandings, and Diyoza! Yay Diyoza.

That evening they reassembled in the cockpit of the Eligius ship. Shaw had arrived first with the famous, and infamous Charmaine Diyoza. 

Bellamy had already had a lot of preconceived notions about the woman Shaw had described. Both a hero and a villain, but neither him nor Clarke could say much in defense of that, none of them could. 

Her hair was slicked back into a low ponytail. She was tall and angular, the round belly beneath her stolen uniform was the only hint that she was anything but marble. Her eyes trailed around them, taking in everything, but giving nothing away. 

“You have terrible taste in men,” Clarke said as an opening. Bellamy looked at her from the corner of his eye, she was just as cool and collected as she’d been since their drink on the Ring. Nothing at all of the waver in her voice or the frantic quelling of Madi’s protests apparent. 

“Yes, well, not many options on an asteroid,” Diyoza said, a devilish grin twitching at her mouth. “Although I see few here.”

“Diyoza, this is everyone,” Shaw interrupted before too many hackles were raised, “and everyone, this is Diyoza.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Clarke said dryly. “Shaw got you up to speed then?”

“Yes,” Diyoza nodded, her hands folding over her belly. “Earth bad. Cannibals and a bloodthirsty Queen in a bunker. The key to a better world in that bunker. Get in, find it, and leave before my ex possibly shows up. Basically McCreary’s plan but with a,” she paused, grinning, “humanitarian angle.”

“That about sums it up,” Bellamy said.

Diyoza sighed, “well then, there are a few people we need to wake up then, fighters I trust to hold the bunker from McCreary, or help get your people out while you search it.”

“When we land at the site we’ll need to be prepared for them to come after us,” Clarke said. 

Diyoza turned to stare at her, “from what I hear they no longer have much in the way of weapons, while we have a full armory stocked and the mining equipment needed to break open the doors.”

“McCreary and I got to know each other fairly well Diyoza,” Clarke said quietly, “firepower isn’t the only weapon he can use, there’s a radio set up at the bunker. If he’s talking to Octavia, telling her lies about me, about you, that she wants to believe, we’ll have more than him to worry about, we’ll have a whole bunker of highly trained, if thin, Wonkru soldiers coming at us the moment we start knocking.”

“I thought this Queen was a friend of yours?” Diyoza said, eyebrow raised.

“She is,” Bellamy stepped forward, cutting Clarke off as she opened her mouth to walk toward Diyoza, “she’s my sister, and if you touch her, I’ll kill you myself.”

Diyoza raised her chin, “noted. But I’m told we’re running out of time to kill, and it’s much less fun than the real thing,” she turned to Shaw. “You know who to wake.”

She turned back to Bellamy and Clarke, “you two in charge here?” 

They looked at each other quickly, but Clarke shifted her gaze back to the ground taking a step back, Bellamy stepped forward. “When we get down there, your men will guard the perimeter in case McCreary made it there. I’ll get on the radio with Octavia. I’ll explain everything, and Shaw will create an opening for us. Then, Clarke and I will find,” he looked back at her, “whatever it is we need to find.”

“Well, look at that, you could tie that pretty plan up with bow,” Diyoza said, sitting down and stretching her arms behind her.

“It’s going to work,” Clarke said to her feet, “we’ve been in tighter spots before and made it through.”

Diyoza swiveled slowly in the chair, considering the woman. “He had you for three months?” She asked, staring at Clarke intently now, her eyes not missing a single stitch or fading bruise.

“Like I said, tighter spots,” Clarke replied. 

A smile tugged on the woman’s face before she turned to the controls and tapped in a command, a large hiss of air reverberating down the hall. “Armory is open, be good boys and girls.”

Bellamy turned, following Shaw, Echo, and Emori down the hall, ignoring the burning at the back of his neck as a pair of blue eyes followed him. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke’s voice called out to him, closing the gap between then in the empty hall. He didn’t turn, but Echo and Emori did, looking back at him questioningly. He sighed, “go ahead, make sure Murphy isn’t the first person the prisoners meet,” glancing away before he could watch the flash of pain across Echo’s face, and Emori’s eye roll.

_“You’re a liar.”_

Madi’s accusation of Clarke ringing in his head as he turned to find her tired eyes, the wavy blonde hair falling lightly into them. 

“What is it Clarke?” He asked, his hands on his hips, trying to give the impression that he was simply busy, not angry, or panicking, which he most definitely was. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked hesitantly, and that damn hand reached toward the watch again.

“It’s fine, Clarke,” he said, hoping that would be the end of it.

“It's just that I feel like I haven’t seen you,” she said, “not since we got that drink.” She took a step closer to him and he felt his resolve slipping. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I-” 

“Clarke that’s not,” Bellamy groaned, there was no easy way out of this conversation, “there’s just a lot to do, I want to be prepared as possible.” He turned, taking a few steps away, but then suddenly her hand was on his shoulder, resting like an anvil with all the weight of Clarke’s secrets. 

“Bellamy, I know you’re worried about Octavia but-” 

“No you don’t!” he yelled, stepping back from her hand, it slipped to her side, her eyes wide. Well good, she was the one lying to him. He was the one that got to be angry.

“Two hundred days,” Bellamy said, and she shook her head in confusion, “Clarke, I’m putting my family’s lives in the hands, or, no wait, in the neck, of someone I’ve only known for two hundred days. Forgive me if I’m feeling a little anxious, alright?”

She stepped back. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Shame crawled up his back but he tamped it down. If she could lie. He could lie. 

“Your family?” Clarke’s voice wavered at the end, the fingers below the watch turning white as she grasped the wrist ever tighter, digging the clasps into her skin, staring at her shoes. “I thought you believed me, I told you I wouldn’t give up on the bunker, that we’d save them all. Now what, you don’t trust me?”

“I’m trying to Clarke, I just get the feeling you’re not telling me everything, and it’s scaring the crap out of me.”

He swallowed the words hanging out there now in the stale and itchy air. There's no way to get them back. He didn’t know how to repair what he’d just done. “Just, get some rest Clarke, okay? That’s what you can do, you can get some rest so we’re both ready for what comes next.”

She didn’t look back up at him, just nodded slightly as though she was in a daze. He watched her turn and walk away, his heart thudding dully as he remembered the last time she had done so, it had taken her six years to return. 

***  
Clarke avoided Bellamy after that, and for the two days it took to get the cryo prisoners in fighting shape, and check over the unused mining equipment. Sticking close to Shaw and Raven as they went over the Eligius software and protocols. Once they got the code, work would need to be done to set their course in motion. She wasn’t exactly helpful, but she was tired, and this way she could sit in a chair staring at schematics and at least look busy. 

Until the evening before the morning they would land.

“Clarke, hold up, I need to talk to you,” Raven said, catching Clarke as she moved to leave them and head to the stateroom she was sharing with Madi. “Alone,” Raven added glaring over at Shaw until he threw his hands up in the air and walked out of the control room, but not before leaning in quickly to kiss Raven’s cheek, smiling at the blush that flushed her face.

Clarke grimaced, she wasn’t in the mood for Raven’s accusations today. She was hoping this new thing with Shaw would ease whatever tension was between them. “Raven, now isn’t really a great-”

“I don’t care,” Raven said, cutting her off. A quick shot of anger rose through Clarke but it died as she watched Raven take off a thin band of fabric off around her neck, lifting it around the thick ponytail. A little metal bird at the end.

Clarke felt the black blood drain from her face. “What are you doing?” She asked, the face of a stupid, wayward boy flashing before her eyes. “Raven,” she took a step back from her shaking her head, “I can’t do this right now, I need to go help,”

“Finn told me,” Raven said, ignoring her, and stepping toward her as Clarke backed away, the bird held out and swinging from her hand toward Clarke. 

“Told you what?” Clarke asked, anxiety wrapping around her. She and Raven, this was the thing they didn’t talk about. This was their warped beginning. 

“About Wells,” Raven said abruptly. 

Wells. Confusion replaced what had moments ago been a fear that Raven had wanted to connect their troubled start with what was going on with Echo and Bellamy. 

Clarke fought the impulse to twist at the watch around her wrist. “Okay?” She said hesitantly. 

Raven winced, realizing she’d started about this too forcefully, “What I meant to say was, he told me about how you blamed Wells, for your Father’s death. How he let you, because you needed someone to hate that wasn’t the one parent you had left.”

Clarke tilted her head, still watching Raven with one eye, the metal necklace with the other. “Oh, yeah Wells was, amazing really.”

Raven stepped forward again, taking a deep breath, “Clarke, you’re my Wells.”

“I’m, I’m you’re what?” Clarke stuttered. 

“My Wells,” Raven said, the words spilling from her now that she’d begun, “the person I’m an asshole to because that’s what I need. And I needed you to be a terrible person. To be the one I could blame for why my heart was broken. I needed you to make the decisions I couldn’t. I needed to think nothing was on me so I could keep...going. It took me a long time up here. A stupid amount really, to put that one together.”

Raven crossed her arms tightly across her body, the bird hanging from one hand, uncomfortable now as Clarke continued to stare dumbly at the metal swing back and forth. Clarke didn’t know what to say. Raven and her, they’d been fractured a long time before Praimfaya had come along. But, knowing now what this was, she swallowed hard, reaching out her palm as Raven laid the metal bird in it. 

“So,” Raven said apprehensively, “I just wanted to say,” she looked straight at Clarke, “I”m sorry. We’re awesome and I let a lot of stupid shit get in the way.” She put her hands back behind her. The silence smothered the awkwardness. “Can you say something, please,” she asked.

“Wells died the night he forgave me,” Clarke said, looking up from the necklace and into Raven’s wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“That’s what the bird’s for Clarke,” Raven said gently, “to keep an eye out for those trying to use you to slay their own demons.”

Clarke closed her palm around the sharp points still warm from laying against her skin. “Thank you Raven.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Griffin,” Raven stepped away quickly, her hair swinging behind her. “Now go away. I’ve got to go over these protocols again so we don't end up in the wrong galaxy once you're done saving the day.”

Clarke smiled, slipping the charm over her head, and slipping quietly out of the control room. A little piece of herself having flown back to her on black wings. 

***

She woke up early that morning, her throat dry, Madi a huddled center of warmth in her arms. The metal bird Raven had given her digging into her chest over her heart. The dull pain a reminder of all that had come before it. 

Unbidden, her anxiety over Bellamy came rushing at her. She’d tried to keep it at bay but they couldn't avoid each other now. The whole plan rested on them working together down there. 

Bellamy knew she was hiding something, just like Murphy did. But at least Murphy knew that secrets are important. They keep you together like the thin thread that had stitched her skin closed. Telling all her secrets, even the ones she couldn’t grasp herself, it would loosen the threads of her mind and unravel the carefully made construction of the Clarke Griffin that had risen from the ashes of Praimfaya. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, after today whatever lies she had told, they would be secrets no longer. That in itself, was a kind of relief. So, she sat up, and got dressed. 

She was still in the faded, blue, overly large jumpsuit they’d found for her on the ark. Her boots were from Eligius. But Madi had thought fast that last night on Earth, so Clarke also sported the jacket she’d spent a long time creating. Greens and blacks and a pattern of pop can tabs down the back. It smelled like the Valley. 

Thin lines and scars all over her skin, covered in Eligius, Ark, and Grounder clothing. The blood running through her now more like Madi’s than her mother’s. Her whole body was a story, she only hoped it could stand up to one more assault, that her mind could find its way through the Flame to what they needed. 

She didn’t wake Madi, just left a kiss on her forehead, her Father’s watch on the pillow next to her. If she didn’t make it back up, if Octavia decided to make her pay for her sins against Wonkru, she wanted her to have it. 

Clarke knew she was too early, no one else was at the bay so she sat against the doors, imagining the heat on her face, the sand whipping against her skin, the angry cries of those in the bunker in her ears, instead of through a radio. She wondered if IT would be back in her ears too. 

“Clarke?” A voice rang out in the hallway. Clarke turned her head, grateful that it was attached to a person, in this case, Emori.

“Hey,” Clarke said, as the woman approached her, her own pack in hand to sit across from her. “I guess we’re the early birds.”

“Yeah, well, anyone’s an early riser compared to John, I had to kick him a few times to make sure he was actually awake and getting ready,” Emori said, that mischievous grin Clarke remembered drawing more than once playing on her face. 

“I’m glad you two made up, Raven mentioned something about Murphy losing the girl last year,” Clarke said, unsure of how much the woman would want to discuss with her. 

“Yeah, well,” Emori lifted her shoulders, “it would seem we both work better with a little action. Waiting for nothing takes its toll.”

“I can relate,” Clarke said. They lapsed into silence then, both contemplating the journey that would begin soon, and Clarke suddenly realized she had a rare opportunity.

“Emori, I never got the chance to say sorry, about trying to use you, that day in the lab. It was terrible of me to even consider it, I, I never forgot about it,” Clarke said, sliding her sweating hands down her legs, before glancing up at the woman’s dark eyes, that tattoo on her face standing out more sharply after years of artificial light. 

“You carry too much with you Clarke,” she said finally, head tilted slightly to consider her. “Do you think less of me that I don’t lose sleep over the man I tricked you into killing?”

Clarke paused, “no,” she said, but shrank a little at Emori’s raised eyebrow. 

Emori rolled her eyes, sighing. “Let it go Clarke. You made up for it already, the whole giving me your suit and making sure I wasn’t the one stuck in a wasted valley for six years,” Emori said. “I don’t need your apology, and I’m not giving you one for pulling a survivor’s move. It’s what John and I do. Only now I make sure my moves ensure my family’s survival too. I don’t care to be a reason you walk around all mopey. Feel better?” She asked, a sly grin on her face. 

“Not really,” Clarke said, “but thanks anyway.”

“Hmmm,” Emori said, leaning her head against the wall, “so you and Bellamy, you in a fight or something?”

Clarke studied her. It didn’t seem to be a question asked in bad faith, even though she knew Emori and Echo were close, and the insinuation could be made that once Clarke had come up, Echo and Bellamy had come apart. 

“Or something,” Clarke said carefully, “he thinks I’m not telling the truth. He thinks it’s putting you all in danger.”

“Well, honesty is overrated, thief's motto,” Emori said, tilting her head back down, arching an eyebrow up. “Unless of course you want to tell me all your dirty little secrets Clarke.”

Anxiety curled her toes in the boots and she pulled at the knuckles in her fingers, popping them one by one. 

“Cut to the meat Clarke,” Emori said, pulling her gun out to clean it, “you know you want to.”

“I was a ghost, you all made me a ghost,” Clarke said in a rush, “maybe I should have stayed that way. Maybe that would have been better for you, for Bellamy’s family.”

Emori paused in her work, sliding the cartridge into the gun. She glanced up at Clarke. “I don’t believe in ghosts Clarke, but-,” she looked down the hall as Shaw, Bellamy, Echo, and Murphy led Diyoza and her crew to them. Her voice dropped, “but for what it’s worth, I do believe in you.”

Something dislodged in Clarke’s chest and she reached out as Emori stood, grabbing her gloved hand quickly in thanks. Emori nodded back, her gaze troubled as she looked at her.

“Oh look, you two are friends now. That’s not terrifying at all,” Murphy drawled as they got closer. 

“Stay scared babe,” Emori said, a grin back on her face, as she grabbed Murphy and pulled him into the Gagarin. 

Bellamy hesitated next to her, looking down at her bowed head. Her hands wrapped around her the straps of her pack. 

“You ready?” he asked, for lack of anything better to say, the strange mix of guilt and anger still swirling in his chest. 

Clarke looked back up at him, her face hardening, “I got the job done last time didn’t I?”

Before he could formulate a response to this blow Shaw stepped around him, wrapping an arm around Clarke’s shoulders, leading her to the transport ship. 

“Clarke if there’s time I left my motorbike in the valley during the escape, and I’m just saying-” Shaw’s comments faded away as they moved farther from him, Clarke turning her head just enough to look back at Bellamy him before they turned the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're hurtling back to the ground, and into some revelations next chapter. You ready?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back on the ground, digging down, discovering ghosts abound.

They were speeding back to Earth. Clarke was strapped into a chair, the forces pressing back against her body as the flames from re-entry licked the hull. She didn’t see the wary glances Bellamy threw her as the hurtled to the sandy land. What had once been Trikru territory was nothing but a barren dust bowl. 

She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t looking at anyone but the ground. Her child was as safe as she could ever keep her in this world. If she died, then she had left her with the people she trusted to do right by her. Madi had been right about that. 

But the other part, the part where she claimed Clarke wanted to hear that voice, that haunted whisper, that part she was wrong on. Clarke was terrified of that voice. Terrified of what it could mean. What it did mean.

Shaw pulled the thrusters, until gradually they slowed and the ruins of Polis came into view. 

“Oh my god,” breathed Emori as the collapsed tower spanned out below them.

“Do you see anyone down there?” Bellamy said, desperately craning his neck to look out the display window as Shaw angled the Gagarin to the side settling it to the right of the circle of toppled stone and rubble. 

“No,” Murphy replied, “but I wouldn’t stick around either if the ship with all the weapons was coming at me.”

“You underestimate how desperate a person can become,” Echo scolded him, “this transport ship is the last chance any humans left alive on Earth have. You’re a fool if you think McCreary won’t try something.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Murphy said, clicking open the buckle on his seatbelt and deftly reaching over to Emori beside him and unlatching hers as she rolled her eyes. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy said, standing up now as Shaw turned off the engines and started to engage the mining equipment. “Does anything look different to you? Does it look like McCreary and his men have been here already?”

She swallowed hard. She didn't look at him as she unclasped her own harness and walked over to the window, scanning the terrain in front of them. She knew these ruins like the back of her hand and let her eyes wander over the rocks to find a point of reference. 

“There,” she said finally, pointing out a metal pole the peeked up just over the crest of triangle-shaped boulder, “that’s the radio post, it’s still up.”

“Does that mean they’ve been here or haven’t?” Murphy asked.

Clarke shrugged, “I think it just means we can give Octavia a heads up that the sky is going to fall.”

“Good idea,” Murphy said, “don’t want the cannibal queen getting a scare.”

“Shut up John,” Emori said, turning and grabbing the guns they’d stored in a box for the trip down. “Bellamy, we’ll organize the Eligius prisoners to cover you while you get to the radio with Clarke.”

Bellamy nodded, “you ready?” he asked Clarke. Her face had gone pallid, her hand back around her now empty wrist. When had she taken off the watch? A tremor went through him as she finally met his gaze, and he took a step back from her. It was the same fear in her eyes as that moment she’d woken up to see him on the ring. 

“It’s loud here,” she said in a detached sort of way, immediately wiping the expression from her face so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it. “Let’s get this done.” She grabbed a gun from the case, loading it quickly, and placing it in a side holster attached to her leg. “Murphy, Emori, follow us but keep your distance. Echo, stay back on the ship, I need you to protect Shaw, he’s got to get this thing back up to Eligius when we’re done.”

“Not a damn chance Wanheda,” Echo said cooly, unsheathing her sword.

“Echo,” Clarke said, walking up to her, “Octavia wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear you made it up to the ring. She sees you, it will be just another complication we don’t need right now.”

Echo narrowed her eyes, “that was over six years ago.”

“And Octavia’s had six years to think about it and she still hates you,” Clarke said evenly. “I went through a lot to get myself a pilot. Take care of him,” she reached out and wrapped a hand around Echo’s arm, “I won’t let anything happen to Bellamy,” she said softly, “you know that.”

Echo looked like she wanted to say something to that, and glanced over at Bellamy who had decided to avoid the whole situation by selecting a few guns himself. “Fine,” she said finally, resheathing her sword. 

“Well super,” Murphy said dryly, “can we please phone home now?”

“Remind me not to let Madi watch movies with you,” Clarke said, releasing Echo’s arm and walking into the hall with him, Bellamy’s eyes on her as she left, Emori behind them.

Echo walked over to Bellamy, who had begun checking and re-checking his ammunition. “Go, talk to your sister,” she said, “find us a new home.”

His hands stilled on the weapon as he looked down, the black curls swinging into his face. Echo reached over and pushed them back, an action sweet and familiar to them. He looked up at her, nodding once and shoving the gun into the waistband of his pants. 

As he walked toward the bay the ship’s doors hit the ground, and a blast of cool, fresh air and sunlight hit him for the first time in almost six years. The breeze blew the curls into his face that Echo had just swept backwards and he squinted at the brightness. 

“We’re back bitches,” he whispered to himself, before stepping down onto the ground a much different man than he’d been the first time around.

***  
Clarke kept Bellamy at a distance as she led him to the little radio unit she kept buried in box. He was about ten feet behind her, moving slowly as the full weight of earth’s gravity, not perfectly replicated by any space station or ship wore against him, and he traversed the now unfamiliar land. He was wise to go carefully. These boulders had been sharpened into razor points by the sandstorms. 

Clarke moved slowly too, not because she was feeling unsteady on the planet, but because the moment the Gagarin had touched back down, IT was also back.

_It’s nice to see you again Wanheda._

She said nothing.

_Helllooo. This is rude of you. Left me alllll alllllone. And now, what? You don’t want to talk? I thought you loved our chats._

Clarke dug her fingernails into her palms. Sweat ran down her hair line, dripping and itching into the wound on her neck. She could hear Bellamy’s labored breathing behind her. She could see flashes of Murphy, Emori, and Diyoza’s trusted few flanking them around the boulders. 

_Oh, I get it. THEY are here now. THEY might be a bit, concerned, if you talked to someone they couldn’t see. No reason to keep a radio on your hip now to help us all pretend._

Her eyesight, which had begun to sharpen the last few days as the nightblood caught up to the lowered levels of radiation in her system seemed to blur again and for a moment and Clarke panicked. But then realized it was just tears.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice called out to her, and she swung her head around, realizing she had walked a few feet past the metal pole she’s made as a marker of all those years ago. She looked at him, his face red from the effort it took to clamber over everything. His eyes widened as he saw the tears falling down her face. “Are you okay?” he asked walking over to her, but she stepped back before he could reach out. 

“I’m fine,” she said, wiping the tears away, “the box is buried about two feet down, right at that pole. Why don’t you rest, I’ll get it set up.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, like he might not give her the room she needed right now. “It’s just hard to be here is all, not a lot of great moments on this radio,” she said, wincing at bit at how she used Abby to get out of the truth.

_Pish. I for one think the good doctor would applaud the ingenuity._

She gritted her teeth against the words that clamored to spill out. Bellamy took a step back, the concern in his face closing off as he nodded and walked away a bit to watch over a different piece of rubble and Clarke took the little shovel she kept secured to the pole and began to dig, waiting until she was sure he was out of earshot before opening her mouth.

**Go. Away. You’re not real.**

_You’re an idiot. You should tell the truth Clarke._

**I don’t even know the truth. I just need-**

Clarke’s shovel hit metal and she hastily pushed the sand away and pulled the box up, gasping as the action laced pain across her ribs. Of course. She still had broken ribs and stitches swarming her whole body. 

But then Bellamy was next to her, grabbing the handle she’d let go of as she’d collapsed back on the sand, her arms around her, the arcs of pain shuddering thorough. He finished pulling it up, and set it down beside her. 

“That was stupid,” he said, crouching down beside her and carefully getting her back to sitting. He handed her a water bottle. 

Clarke took long, shallow breaths. “I’m an idiot, apparently,” she said and nodded over in the direction of the box. “Open it, turn it on. It takes a minute or two to find the signal down there. If their radio is on it will turn green.”

“Do they keep it on all the time?” He asked, leaving her side and walking over the radio. 

“They used to.”

She could see his jaw muscles tick as he set about turning everything on, “what if they don’t answer?”

“Then we drill anyway,” she turned her face away from him then, instead watching the top of Murphy’s spiky hair roam along the outskirts.

Bellamy made a noise of disapproval but finished setting it up, and held the receiver in his hand, waiting for the light to turn green. 

_Tick. Tock. Goes the clock._

Clarke closed her eyes, lowering her head to her knees and wrapping her hands around her tucked up legs, hiding the breathed words into her skin.

**Please. Please stop.**

_I am not your enemy Clarke._

**Maybe I’m yours then.**

“Clarke!” she whipped her head up as Bellamy called out to her. He held up the radio, the light was green. His face was bright. 

She got up slowly, her body screaming in protest. She’d been shrugging off the pain. The drug of finding them all alive, of making it up alive keeping her afloat. And the excellent morphine Harper reminded her to take. Down here though. Down here she felt like she was still strapped to that chair. Waiting for him. Waiting for death.

She walked over to Bellamy, smiling a little despite the turmoil at the wondrous look on his face as he cradled the radio in his large hands. He knew how precious a radio could be as well. Connection.

“She doesn’t sit by the radio all day. You’ll have to announce yourself. If there’s someone posted in the room they’ll either answer you, or just go get her.”

Bellamy brought the radio up to his mouth, and pressed down. “This is Bellamy Blake kom Skaikru. We’ve come back from the ring. Get my sister. Get Octavia. Do you read me?” He lifted his finger of the control key, she could see it shaking. 

They waited, and waited. Bellamy stared at the walkie. Clarke lifted her face to the sun.

_This will hurt him._

She turned her face away, whispering her answer to the ashes of Polis. 

**He will endure.**

“Big Brother?” Her voice carried out of the little speaker and Bellamy almost dropped it with a gasp, fumbling to press the receiver button back down. 

“Octavia?” His voice cracked, “It’s me, I’m here, I’m above the bunker. We’re going to get you out.”

The static crackled. “You’re late,” she said. Clarke watched his face crumpled at the accusation. 

“Octavia, I’m sorry, there wasn’t enough fuel, there wasn’t a way to get down until Clarke-” 

“Clarke is with you?” Octavia asked, the tone hollow, joyless. 

“Y-Yes,” Bellamy said. She could see the relief seeping out of his face. “Yes, a lot has happened. But we have what we need to get the bunker open.”

“Why? Clarke said the earth is broken. Clarke said there’s no reason to crawl out anymore. She stopped trying,” Octavia hissed out. 

Bellamy stared at her as he answered. “She found another way Octavia. She’s trying to save us all,” he hesitated, “like always.”

Clarke’s heart skipped. They waited in static.

“You’re a fool big brother. She cares for nothing. She is nothing,” Octavia’s said, the anger laced through.

Clarke shook her head, ignoring Bellamy’s panicked glances as she walked away in a circle around him. 

“Octavia, I know, I know it’s been unimaginable, I know you’ve had to do terrible things to keep Wonkru alive. But we have mining equipment, we’re going to come in on the northwest side, there are sleeping quarters there right? You need to clear them. Clarke and I will come down and explain everything.”

“No one uses those rooms anymore,” her voice came back small. “A lot of empty beds these days.”

“I know O, I know. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re alive.” He lifted his finger off the receiver and the silence was deafening.

Finally, she responded, “I’ll get Wonkru away from that part of the bunker. But they’re not going anywhere until I hear this plan myself.”

“Thank you O,” he said.

“It’s Bloodreina.”

The green light clicked off before Bellamy could respond. He lowered the radio slowly, staring at her wide-eyed in shock. “That’s not my sister.”

“None of us are who we used to be,” Clarke said turning away from him, and lifting the Eligius issued radio from her hip.

“Clarke to Shaw, do you read me?”

“This is Shaw.”

“We have contact,” she said, “break this thing open.”

“Copy that,” Shaw replied. 

Clarke looked over at him. His back was hunched over the radio, staring at it as though it might give him answers. 

“I did that a lot too,” she said.

“What?” he replied, distracted.

“Imagined a different conversation.” She started walking toward the sounds of gnawing and groaning steel as the ruins of Polis began to give way to the hell beneath. Giving her cover.

_Are you ready?_

**No.**

_Oh look at that. The truth._


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Clarke and Bellamy descend into the bunker, Clarke remembers conversations with a Queen.

Shaw says the Gagarin’s scanners are picking up a group of dead bodies about twenty miles out,” Murphy said, walking up to Clarke and Bellamy as they stood fifty feet away, arms crossed, watching the giant drill attached to the Gagarin. It swirled downward ever so slowly. The rotations pulling screams from the metal plating of the bunker as it tore into it. 

“Maybe they got ripped to shreds by the glass in the sandstorm,” Clarke said absently. “Madi and I got caught one time in the rover. Tore the tires to pieces. Searched six months before we found enough rubber in old bunkers to cobble them back together.”

“How’d you get the rover back to the Shallow Valley?” Emori asked curiously.

“Pulled,” Clarke said, a distant look in her eyes.

“Damn Clarke,” Emori muttered. 

“Once this gets open, stay at the doorway within sight of the Gagarin,” Bellamy said, his eyes never leaving the drill. 

“Won’t find me complaining about not having to go into the lair of cannibals,” Murphy said.

Bellamy was turning to tell him off with the noise cut out. The four of them looked up at the gaping hole in the side of the rubble. 

“Shaw?” Clarke said quietly into her radio.

“Nothing left to punch through Clarke,” Shaw replied. “Go find our buried treasure.”

Clarke looked over at Bellamy. 

“We can do this,” she said to him.

“Whatever you say Clarke,” he replied, turning and climbing up the rubble to reach the entrance. Clarke followed him, holding in the screams that built up in her, hiding the streams of black blood flowing down her arms as sweat. 

They scrambled, some more slowly than others now, until they reached the black hole the drill had left, water and sparks dripping and flying out at the entrance.

“Murphy, we’ll radio in-” he glanced over at Clarke, she stared at him blankly.

“One hour,” he said, “we’ll give you an update in an hour. Radio if anything looks wrong.”

“Bell, Clarke,” Emori said, standing in front of them, “be careful.”

Bellamy pulled Emori in for a hug. Clarke looked away, even as Murphy’s eyes followed her. She stepped forward, wrapping a rope around a particularly sturdy set of boulders and stepping into the rappelling harnesses that were part of the miner’s equipment. As she tightened the straps down she ignore the pain. She ignored how her fingers seemed to fumble. The pitch blackness that she was willingly falling into.

She tilted herself back and let gravity do its good work. Bellamy’s frame just above her blocking out the light. They descended in silence, filling her mind with all the words, all the conversations she should have told him about. 

****  
 _Conversations With The Buried._

“Clarke?” Octavia’s voice crackled through the speaker, tinged with disbelief and fear.

“Octavia? Oh my god, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice,” Clarke replied, relief flooded through her. 

“How is this happening? Are you on the Ring? Where’s Bellamy?”

“No,” Clarke hesitated, “No, I’m on Earth, above the bunker. I didn’t make it to the transport ship. I had to stay behind to get the power on the Ring. Bellamy, the rest of them. They made it though, I’m sure of it,” she said, hoping she sounded confident.

“The nightblood? Octavia asked questioningly, “it worked, didn’t it? How are you surviving?”

“Yeah, in the end,” Clarke said, “I’m sorry we didn’t know before. I found a valley, it’s sustaining us for now.”

“Us?”

“I found a child in the Valley, her name is Madi. She’s a nightblood. It’s just the two of us now.”

“Sounds peaceful,” Octavia said, and Clarke didn’t miss the note of derision.

“How are you Octavia?” Clarke asked, grasping the clothes around her head tighter and the dust swirled around them.

At first there was just silence, “Polis, it collapsed on us, didn’t it? Even though you’re a nightblood now, that doesn’t help Wonkru.”

Clarke’s through constricted. She looked over at Madi’s small face in the Rover, all excitement and hope. 

“I’m sorry O,” she said. 

“It’s Bloodriena,” she replied quietly, “that’s what they call me now. I didn’t,” there was a pause, “it’s not like I came up with it. Gaia said it would help with the Grounder’s faith, with their loyalty.”

“That’s good,” Clarke said hesitantly. “I, I was hoping I could talk to my Mom.”

“Oh, Abby likes to talk,” Ocatvia said sadly, “but she’s performing surgery right now. “Punishment is integral to Wonkru’s safety right now. I made it something the grounders would understand. Blood you know? I, I had to. It was chaos, there was no choice.” 

Clarke didn’t miss the desperation in her voice. Her heart sank. 

“Ocativa, it’s going to be okay. I can’t come here all the time, there’s sandstorms and it’s hard to carry enough rations,” she stopped as Ocatvia’s sobs suddenly broke through. “Octavia,” Clarke said softly, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t want to know, but Octavia was Bellamy’s whole world, and if she couldn’t give Octavia her brother, she could help her bear it. “Just tell me. Just tell me everything.” 

There was silence. Then, “there was a problem in the hydro-farm. Abby found the solution.”

***

“Fine!” Clarke shot back in the radio, her hand sweating on it in the heat. “I get it Cooper. I’ll try your recipe for the fertilizer again. I must have gotten it wrong.” 

“No need to yell,” the voice came back sourly. 

“Just put Octavia on,” she said crossly, her stomach heaving traitorously. 

“It’s Bloodreina,” hissed Cooper as Clarke rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time she was grateful for the lack of video.

“Yeah, I’m aware,” she said, waiting out the static as she heard a door open, a rustle, and the Octavia’s gravely voice came through, tired, but clear.

“Hey Griffin, how’s topside today?”

Clarke sighed, “It’s same as always. How are you?”

For a moment there was silence, and Clarke reached toward the controls to try to fiddle with the settings. Then the voice broke through. “Ethan died yesterday. He got in a fight with another boy over rations. I couldn’t show favoritism so I put them both in the pit. I thought he would win, I thought, I thought I’d trained him well enough that he’d win.”

Clarke’s heart plummeted. She licked her dry lips before raising the radio to them again. “I’m so sorry Octavia,” she took a breath, knowing she walked on shifting ground, “maybe, maybe now that Cooper has the hyrdo-farm running a little better, the punishments could fit the crime more, maybe-”

“They were enemies of Wonkru!” Octavia shrieked, and Clarke could hear her fists hitting the table. “This petty fighting has to stop. They have to know there’s no room for it. The arkers get it, they follow the damn rules, they remember the rules! This is how we survive!”

“I know, I know,” Clarke said, trying to soothe the woman at the other end of the line. “But Wonkru won’t see you as weak if you lessen the punishments, they’ll be grateful. Two hungry pre-teen boys will fight, that’s human nature, but, but make them clean floors for it O, don’t make them fight to the death.”

“I told you, don’t call me that.” Her voice replied, all traces of heartbreak gone. The red mask slipped back on.

“Bloodriena,” Clarke whispered.

“You know nothing about Wonkru,” Ocatvia’s voice seethed out. “You’re up there, in the sun, eating fish instead of flesh. What can you possibly know about how to survive down here?”

Clarke had no answers. She had no reason to add to Ocatavia’s mounting sorrow with her own troubles in the valley. She’d stopped bringing Madi to these calls. The little girl had grown scared of the swiftly changing emotions of the voice on the radio.

“You’re right Bloodreina,” Clarke conceded. “Just,” she paused, “I’m here. I’m here for you. Just two more years to go. I know Raven and Monty will figure out a way to get these rocks away from the entrance. We’ll get the Valley healthy. Hold on, okay?

“We’ll be here,” she replied. “Wonkru won’t give up.”

“Neither will I,” Clarke said adamantly. Shaking her head away from the whispers the clouded it. “Talk soon, okay?”

The radio clicked off without a response.

***  
“I should’ve screwed Atom when I had the chance,” Ocataiva said drowsily, as Clarke giggled into the radio. The sun had gone down, the stars glared brightly above her. 

“I thought you did?” Clarke asked, playing with the sand at her fingers, her back settled into a cove of rocks. It’s been too hot lately to travel in the day, Octavia preferred talking at night anyway, insomnia plagued them both.

“Nope, the most we did was kiss, before he,” she trailed off, “I’m just regretting not getting all the screws in I could. It’s been a long dry spell Griffin.”

“I know the feeling,” Clarke replied sardonically. “I thought maybe, you mentioned Niylah,” she hesitated. Octavia was alone a lot these days. 

“No,” she replied, “they see me as something else now. It wouldn’t be,” she paused, “equal I guess. I’m not a person down here, I’m something else.”

“Something else,” Clarke murmured back. 

***  
“Goddammit!” Clarke yelled into the speaker, “It’s not easy up here either O! Madi’s only eating the preserved rations now. I haven’t kept a meal down in months. I’m not saying it’s not worth it to keep figuring out how to blast these rocks apart, I’m just saying you need us alive to do it!”

“You know Clarke, it’s getting around that you’ve got a nightblood child with you,” Ocatvia’s voice came through, calm, cold. They’d been arguing about Cooper taking time away from working on the Valley’s soil problem instead of exploring ways to blow up rocks with resources Clarke might find in undiscovered radiation shelters. It had quickly devolved. 

“What’s the problem with that?” Clarke said heatedly, “not a lot to discuss down there I’m guessing?”

“Why were you talking to Gaia last month?” Octavia asked and the note in her voice made a shiver go down Clarke’s back. 

“Madi, she wanted to know more about the flame. I’m running out of stories up here too.” 

“Really?” Octavia said coldly. “It’s not that you want to put your kid in charge, with the flame, once Bellamy gets back and releases us?”

“O?” Clarke said, shock flooding through her. “There’s nothing I want less in this world than to put that piece of shit into her head. You’ve got to believe me.”

“Hmmm,” was the only sound that that traveling through.

“Can I talk to my mom?” She asked instead.

“Abby’s busy,” Octavia said crisply.

“More fighting pit injuries?” Clarke said nastily. 

“You’re Wonkru. Or you’re an enemy of Wonkru,” Octavia hissed back. “Everyone knows that. Except you.”

“I’m not your enemy O,” Clarke said sadly. 

“Then what are you Clarke?” Octavia asked curiously. 

***  
“You don’t sound good Clarke, bad month?” Octavia’s voice seemed to swim at Clarke, the radio heavy in her hand.

“I’ve been sick,” she said back. ‘You know that. You know why.”

“I only know what you tell me,” Octavia replied coolly. “I can’t talk long, Abby wants to meet on some quarantine plans. The former grounders were never vaccinated against fucking chicken pox.”

“Were you?” Clarke asked.

“I-” Octavia’s voice almost sounded surprised, the brittle tone slipping off for a second. “Fuck. I’m probably not. Aurora wouldn’t have been able to steal any extra vaccine.”

Clarke chuckled, “don’t worry, the grounders will think it’s a form of solidarity, their Red Queen toughing out the scratching with them.”

“We’re all-” O’s voice began.

“Yeah, Wonkru, I know,” Clarke said resignedly. 

The static filled the void, Clarke winced worried she’s gone too far. 

“Hey Clarke?” 

“Yeah?”

“He’ll come back,” Octavai’s voice sounded hopeful. “It will all be worth it. We’ll fix everything that’s gone wrong. We’ll lead them all to the Valley. Wanheda and Bloodreina. We’ll rebuild the world Clarke. This time it will be ours.”

Clarke stilled, her vision blurring as she stared into the distance rubble. The dry earth as cracked and as poisonous as the ones left behind on it. 

So she lied. 

“It will be beautiful O, so beautiful,” she sucked in a breath. “O?”

“Yeah?” She sounded a thousand miles away, instead of a few hundred feet below. 

“Can you please get Abby for me?” Clarke asked, tears sliding down her face, “I need to talk to my Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The radio calls with Octavia were a late addition. Clarke and Octavia have been at odds so much in the show that I found it tricky to figure out how to write these conversations. Hope you enjoy! Plot steam rolls ahead in the next chapter. Comments and Kudos always looked forward to :)


	20. Chapter 20

In the darkness it became loud.

_So. treasure hunt. Sounds fun. Can I play?_

Clarke’s hands lost their grip on the wet rocks and she crunched into the side of the wall, not able to stop the cry from slipping past her lips.

“You okay?” Bellamy’s voice called out. 

She took a moment, struggling to make sure she sounded better than she felt. “Yeah, it’s fine. We’re going to have to find a better access point for everyone to leave through.”

“Once we talk to Octavia and find the coordinates, Shaw will be able to remove the rubble from the main entrance so we can send down rope stairs.” Clarke felt a flash of annoyance at how calm he was being. 

_Seems like a petty thing to be angry over but whatever_

**Shut up**

“What?” Bellamy asked back startled. 

Clarke stilled. 

_Hahahahahaha_

“Nothing,” she replied, “I’m just trying to focus, I’m not in the best shape for this.”

_Smooooooth_

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, then realized it was the same as keeping them open in the blackness.

“Monty would have been better for this, he and Octavia were always friends,” Bellamy said, his voice suddenly very close to her as she felt his hand in her hair, cautiously palming the back of her head, letting her rest the weight on his hand. Bellamy was kind even when he was pissed off. 

“Monty can’t take the flame,” Clarke said trying not to sound like her feelings were hurt. 

“That’s very convenient. You still think it’s in the flame, don’t you?”

“I think it’s the best chance,” Clarke said sourly, “but I’m all ears if you have an idea of your own.”

For a few beats they kept going down in silence. The blackness crowding them. 

“Please don’t take this the wrong way Clarke, but your neck is in no shape to be crawled into by a piece of centuries old tech.”

“I can handle it,” she replied, and was about to say something more but then a light caught her eye. They were nearing the bunker.

They lapsed into silence the final hundred feet, before appearing in a destroyed room, bunk bed frames collapsed all around as the drill had smashed through. The air was stuffy, silent, empty. 

“Come on,” Bellamy said, unwinding Clarke from the harness. She tried not to lean into him as she stepped through it but she couldn’t help it. She was so tired. For a moment, he let her. 

“Bellamy?” The voice rang out, sharp and clear in a way that was too vivid for Clarke after years of the staticky radio waves. 

Clarke’s eyes flashed open, she almost lost her balance as Bellamy’s arms disappeared from around her waist and he was over to his sister in two strides. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around herself, taking in the scene. 

Octavia, set up in red leather and choppy black hair. Her face was clean of blood, not like her mother had described it. But she could see her eyes over Bellamy’s shoulder. Hard as flint. Unforgiving. The once warm and heated hazel eyes now cold as they swept over her. 

The man and woman next to Octavia filled Clarke we less dread, but nowhere near comfort.

Indra. She looked the same really. Sadder maybe. Thinner yes. She stared at Clarke mournfully, but aloof. 

Miller. He walked over to Bellamy with a grin, slapping his old brother on the back with a warm hug. For Clarke, the warmth disappeared. He just nodded, falling back into line with Octavia.

“It’s so good to see you,” Bellamy said, a wide grin on his face.

“I knew you’d come big brother,” Octavia said, measured, controlled, “but you don’t exactly arrive with welcome company.”

Bellamy’s smile disappeared, “we need to talk O, we don’t have a lot of time. There could be dangerous people on their way.”

“Wonkru isn’t scared,” Octavia replied.

“Good,” Clarke said, stepping forward. Miller did too, a hand on the sword hilt around his waist.

“Miller, what the hell?” Bellamy asked in disbelief.

“He’s just doing his job Bellamy,” Clarke said, staring at Octavia. “Bloodreina, we have plenty of reasons to hate each other, but we need to set them aside. There’s something in this bunker that can help us leave the planet, for the one Becca Pramheda always meant for us to find.”

Octavia retained her mask of calm, “sure there is Wanheda.”

“O, can we go somewhere to talk?” Bellamy said, his gaze raking over his little sister. 

“We’ll talk here. Explain here,” Octavia said. “Wonkru was only told there was a gas leak in this quadrant. If they knew she was here, they’d kill her on the spot.”

“Why would they want to kill Clarke?” Bellamy asked, his brow furrowed, as she stepped back from his sister. 

Clarke glanced around the room uneasily, ignoring Bellamy’s look as it crossed over to her in confusion. 

Octavia stepped forward toward Clarke, “it looks like you need a seat.” She dragged the one unbroken chair over to her. 

Clarke looked at it. It was too much like, like the other one. She swallowed hard. There was bile in her throat. Pressure in her forehead. Bloodreina had made a command, it was expected to be followed. 

She looked over at Indra instead, “Gaia, is she alive?” 

Indra stared back at her impassively, glancing at Octavia who hadn’t taken her eyes off Clarke. “Yes,” she said finally and Clarke nodded. 

“That’s nice,” she said faintly, a weight lifting off her shoulders. She leaned against one of the unbroken bed frames in lieu of following the order to sit, as a snarl grew on Octavia’s face. “Bellamy, go for it.”

Bellamy looked warily among these people he knew, yet didn’t and took a breath. “It began before the bombs fell, when Eligius needed more funding.”

Clarke let Bellamy’s voice wash over as he told the story as quickly as possible. The news of Clarke willingly letting herself get tortured for three months drew not even a passing consideration from Octavia, while Miller and Indra’s faces clouded over. 

By the time he was finished, with the fact that they now needed to use the Flame to see if Becca Pramheda had stored the coordinates within the A.I. to give them a map to the new planet, Clarke felt like her head might just about split open.

_Just listen to me. Listen. Why aren’t you listening? Who cares if you talk out loud? They already think you’re crazy, it’s not going to be new news Clarke._

Clarke did her best to ignore it. This voice had been just a whisper for so long and now it was suddenly so loud and clear. It had to mean. It had to mean, they were close to flame, right? Octavia’s stares weren’t helping. She could feel her lips against a radio. The sun burning her neck. Salt on her face as she told her mother to...to…”

_She doesn’t want to see the truth._

“So you believe the coordinates are in the Flame of the commanders,” Octavia replied evenly as Bellamy finished. 

“Clarke thinks it’s the first place to look,” Bellamy said.

“And what do you think Big Brother?” Octavia said, a cruel little smile on her face. “Following the Princess around again, have you had a thought of your own since she knocked on your door?”

Clarke pushed herself away from the bed frame, “Octavia, just take us to Gaia, she’s still the flame keeper isn’t she?”

Octavia’s sword was at her throat before she could blink. Miller had his own across Bellamy’s as he stepped forward. Indra did nothing but watch the situation with a kind of bored detachment. 

Clarke could feel the cold steel against her skin and she was suddenly back in that chair. McCreary dragging the scalpel across her, pressing down. She knew Bellamy was shouting but it felt far far away.

_Careful, be careful._

**I don’t know how to be that.**

“Be what Clarke?” Octavia’s face filled her world. Those green eyes all she could see, inches from her own. The taller woman forced her down into the chair she had been loathed to sit in. Her stomach dropped as she realized she’d answered out loud.

“Bloodreina,” she whispered against the blade as she kept it to her neck. “I’m trying to save you. I’m trying to save Wonkru.”

“You’re not a saviour,” Octavia snarled, “you’re Wanheda. You don’t save people by giving them their lives, you save them by taking them.” 

“Octavia stop!” Bellamy’s wild yell reached her and she couldn’t help the sob that broke through her. 

Octavia stepped back, removing the sword from her neck and Clarke hung her head gulping in the stale air in uneven gasps. 

“O, this is insanity. Clarke risked everything to help all of us. Why are you acting like this? You’re the one who killed her mother!” Bellamy yelled at her. 

Octavia snapped her head over to her brother. “You don’t know anything about what happened in here Bellamy,” she said anger vibrating off of her. “You’re still that stupid boy that always believed Clarke. Maybe she wasn’t lying about the valley dying, but she still gave up. She still told Abby to kill everyone in here. If Clarke had her way I’d be dead. Wonkru would have perished a year ago.”

Bellamy took a step back, wavering. He looked back and forth between Clarke and Octavia. Clarke slumped forward, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

_Tell the truth._

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked, his voice broken, “what is she saying?”

_If you tell the truth. I’ll tell the truth._

She swallowed, and looked him in the eye. “It was after year five. You hadn’t come back. I, I tried to find a way, but there was nothing,” she looked over at Octavia, her stony gaze. “I told my mom what I believed to be true. That the earth was dead. That soon Madi and I would be too. That maybe the bunker should try to find some peace, in their last moments.” 

“You told her to kill everyone?” Bellamy whispered in horror. 

“What were the words, ‘she’s given them nothing but terror, you can give them a peaceful death.’” Octavia sang. Clarke thought she might be sick.

She nodded, accepting the accusation, “Octavia was listening,” Clarke said faintly, “obviously.”

“I didn’t murder Abby, Bell” Octavia said sourly, “I saved Wonkru from her.”

“And now I can save Wonkru from Earth,” Clarke said desperately. Looking away from Bellamy’s incredulous expression at the revelation. If she knew she wouldn’t topple over she would have risen from the chair. “Please Octavia, I gave up, it’s true. But we can’t do this now. You have to let me see if the flame has the answers we need.”

“I already have the answers I need,” Octavia said, a wicked grin growing on her face. “It was a nice story Bell, but honestly, I preferred the original version.”

Clarke sucked in a breath, blinked. No.

_Yes...about that._

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Footsteps Clarke knew from memory as his voice went from ringing in her nightmares to the real world. She threw up as he entered the room. 

“Oh but Clarke,” McCreary said, “we haven’t even gotten started yet.”


	21. Chapter 21

Bellamy knew who he was even before Clarke wretched his name out as she threw up on the floor. He was moving forward to wrap his hands around McCreary’s throat, ready to tear him into pieces for what he’d done to Clarke before he even realized he’d made a move. 

It took both Miller and Indra to wrestle him to his knees. Miller pausing his struggles with a gun whiplashed across his face. The injury hurt, but the fact that it was Miller is what shocked him the most. Indra had a good reason to hate him. Three hundred Trikru soldiers dead in field gave her plenty of reasons. But not Miller. What had this bunker done to his family?

“This must be Bellamy Blake,” McCreary said, pulling out a handful of ties and deftly wrapping Clarke’s wrists and ankles to the chair she sat on. She wasn’t moving. She was just staring at the floor. “She talked a lot about you. When she wouldn't give up the bunker’s location, she gave up just about everything else. Except the kid of course. But I learned about her at a different moment,” he traced the burn scars on his face. 

Bellamy strained against the restraints, “must suck to be outsmarted by a twelve year old,” he snarled, hoping to goad the monster into coming closer. 

McCreary sneered, “win the war, not the battle. Lucky for me she didn’t get all the mining equipment. I had to kill all my men for their rations but I made it here and found a way in a mile back. Wasn’t a fun crawl, but it did the trick, gave your sister quite the shock,” he grinned, the light glinting off the glare of oil on the burn scars. 

Octavia simply looked bored at the conversation, her red armor glinting dully in the fluorescent lighting.

“I’m going to kill you,” Bellamy said, the rage feeling good. 

“She’s not worth it Bell,” Octavia said, coming toward him. This person. She couldn’t be the little girl he played lily pad with in their tiny apartment on the ark. The girl who made fun of his cross-stitches. Who’d ask for one more story. And then one more. 

“She lied to you. Didn’t she?” Octavia asked, cupping his face with one hand, his body still held tightly back by Indra and Miller. “She didn’t tell you she sentenced us all to death?”

Bellamy shook his head as he realized at least part of what Madi had meant when she said Clarke had lied to him, but his anger at that paled in the face of his fear of what danger McCreary posed to them all now.

“O, you can’t trust him!” Bellamy said, “how can you trust a person that would do that to-”

“To Clarke!” Octavia shrieked, her hand dropping from his face, her eyes wide and flashing. “Clarke, would have had us all be corpses on the floor when you got here. Clarke should be thanking me that I killed Abby, thanking me for keeping more blood off her soaked hands.”

“O, think this through,” Bellamy said, his eyes tracking McCreary now, the man pulling Clarke’s head up to make her look at him. But they rolled into the back of her head and his heart lurched. “This helps no one, we need the coordinates so we can all leave the bunker, so we can all get to a better place! You think McCreary wants peace?”

“Peace? A better place?” Octavia said darkly, “there is no such thing as peace Bellamy. There is no 'better', there is only here. No one is leaving. The Earth is ours, we just have to wait for it to be ready for us again.”

“What the fuck,” McCreary stood up from his ministrations by Clarke, a collar back on her neck now. “What are you talking about Red? I already told you we’re leaving.” McCreary walked up close to Octavia as she squared her shoulders to him. “We use her blood to get the coordinates out of the flame, we kill her after, and I take you and your merry band of cannibals with, that was the deal, remember?” 

Octavia had a sickly little grin on her face, “sounds like a fairytale to calm stupid children. There are no coordinates. Your father died in this bunker McCreary, consider yourself lucky that you may die on the surface.”

Bellamy watched as the color drained out of McCreary’s face, the man taking a few steps back toward the door as Octavia stepped forward menacingly, an odd smile on her face. 

“you crazy little bitch,” McCreary snarled, “just stick the AI in the girl’s head.”

“You mean the flame?” Octavia slid a hand into her vest, and pulled out the little piece of tech. Clarke’s eyes finally lifted off the ground to focus on it.

“Please,” Clarke’s voice broke, “please Octavia, you can kill me, you can do whatever you want to me, just don’t take away their chance to live. Don’t do this to Bellamy.”

“You know Clarke,” Octavia said, throwing the little piece of a universe up and down in the air, “when McCreary showed up with this story about heading off to a new planet, all I could think about was how much you would enjoy it. All you wanted was a second chance to pretend you’re not the monster we all know you to be. 

“Stop it O,” Bellamy said, but she ignored him. He looked over at Clarke, her gaze fixated on the bit of tech as it sprang into the air and back down into Octavia’s palm.

“Don’t you want that Bloodriena?” Clarke asked, her voice small. “You said you saved my hands from being coated in more blood. So that means now you’re just as soaked in it as I was. Don’t you want to clean them now? Don’t you want to be better than this? We don’t have to be the monsters we let out.”

“Well this is super creepy,” McCreary said from the background, Octavia looking almost startled as though she’d forgotten his presence, her focus on Clarke’s words. “And while I applaud whatever drugs you're apparently abusing to outstanding results, I’m done with this game, put that shit in her neck. Now.”

Octavia rolled her eyes at him, but looked back at Clarke, “no, that’s what she wants. And I think history has shown that when Clarke Griffin gets what she wants, the rest of us suffer.”

Octavia gazed cooly at Clarke, walking in close and crouching down by her to stare up into her red rimmed eyes. “My sister,” she whispered, “you need to see this, you need to know, I am their only chance. It’s time you gave up the crown. It’s time you accept what you are. It’s time you stop trying to change the story like you do with Madi. I can help you with that.” 

Clarke sucked in a breath, and Bellamy felt the whole room still as though even the air listened to Bloodriena’s command. The Flame was tossed into the air one more time, the lights in the room glinting off the infinity symbol, every eye glued to it’s spinning, before it disappeared back into Octavia’s hand and she slammed it down toward the floor, smashing the flame into infinitesimal pieces as McCreary screamed.

Bellamy looked on in horror as their best chance at getting what they needed crumbled before them. He whipped his head to look at Clarke, who had her mouth parted in a silent scream. Before squeezing them shut as though she could block out what had just happened. 

“What did you just do?” McCreary said, his breaths shallow, his voice dark and strained as he stared gaping at the broken flame scattered about. 

“Eliminating distractions,” Octavia said, shrugging, “I have no need of liars in my kru, and the age of Becca’s commanders is done.”

McCreary’s face had gone a strange kind of green, “my, my father didn’t lie,” he voice came out in a strangle. 

Octavia rolled her eyes, “oh come on McCreary. The only reason you breathed more than a few seconds past knocking through that wall was because you yelled out the words 'I have a ship.' Lots of valuable things on a ship. Things we can use in the Valley to make it work for Wonrku. We’ll make much better use of it down here, than flying off to die in the stars.”

McCreary placed a hand in his pocket, shaking his head slowly, pulling out a thin little disc, “okay, okay,” he said faintly, nodding, “that AI was just one option, it could still be here,” he said showing her the disc, “and you’re going to let me look for it if you don’t want this bunker crushed.”

“This bunker has withstood more than your missiles you idiot,” Octavia said, shifting toward him from her still crouched position near Clarke.

“It won’t survive Hydrazine!” He screamed back at her, the cords in his neck pulling at the skin. 

Octavia abruptly turned away from McCreary, standing up and taking a few steps toward Bellamy. “Bell, radio Raven to land the Eligius spaceship near the Valley, your shuttle can transport Wonkru to it. The hydro farms won’t last much longer anyway, and now that the air is fine we can all live in the ship on the ground. I’m looking forward to Monty’s algae farm, we could all do with a different source of protein,” she smirked, and a cold shiver ran down Bellamy’s back as Octavia turned away from him and over to Clarke’s shivering form. 

“Don’t worry Clarke, without the flame, your little natblida will be safe with me,” Octavia bent down and whispered to her. “We’ll all be back together again, we just won’t need you.”

“O,” Bellamy said, sitting back, unable to struggle against Indra and Miller. “Your people deserve a chance to choose how they want to live their lives. How can you of all people deny them that? ”

Octavia straighten up and came to stand over him, “I’m the only reason they have a life to live.” she handed him the radio, “call up to Raven, do it now Bellamy.” 

“O,” his voice cracked, “I won’t do that to them. I won’t do that to my family.”

Octavia tilted her head, seemingly confused by the answer, “soon they’ll just be Wonkru.”

“You’re all out of your goddamn minds,” McCreary’s voice rang out, he was staring in disbelief at the scene in front of him, that strange little disc still in his hand. “We’re going to find those coordinates now, or I’m blowing this place to shreds.” He inclined his head to the metal in his hand, “you either start moving and looking for another place it could be, or I’m sending the full force of the hydrazine missiles down on this bunker. This is a full override so your little friends up there won’t be able to stop it.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes, while a smile curled up her mouth, “are you threatening me?”

McCreary took a step forward, “yeah bitch, I am.” 

“Then you’re an enemy of Wonrku,” Octavia said, and with a single swipe of her sword, McCreary’s head dropped to the floor.

There was a ringing in Bellamy’s ears as he watched his sister walk calmly over to the still twitching hand that held the trigger, pulling the disc from the dead man’s fingers. She stared at it curiously.

“O,” he said hoarsely, “what are you doing?”

“Are you ready to radio the ship Bellamy?” She asked instead.

He sucked in a breath, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. “I’m not dying on this planet Octavia,” he said firmly. I don’t want you to either.” 

She looked at him, something similar to sadness in her eyes, “don’t worry, big brother, from the ashes we will rise,” she said, as she pressed the button down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza, are all these plot points holding together? I sure hope so. 
> 
> RIP McCreary (not really)  
> RIP Flame (really)
> 
> Kudos and Comments always loved and appreciated.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying!
> 
> P.S. if you're wondering where the voice in Clarke's head has wandered to...stay tuned.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are revealed and a ticking clock starts.

“Bellamy, Bellamy listen to me,” the not-Octavia was in his face, yelling at him as he stared at the head of McCreary roll to reach Clarke’s shoes. 

“What did you do?” “Bellamy whispered. 

Octavia ignored him, “you need to radio the transport ship. We need to know how much time we have until the missiles hit. I’ll move Wonkru down into the lower levels and you can use the ship’s mining equipment to clear us out again.”

There was a ringing in his ears, Clarke was slumped over in the chair, tears streaming down her face, as she focused on the broken flame, McCreary’s lifeless eyes staring up at her. 

“Bellamy,” she leaned into his face, her voice sweet and soft, “radio, now.” 

“Why would you send those missiles O?” He heaved out staring at the radio in her outstretched hand, unable to look up at his baby sister.

He could see her grip tighten on the plastic, “because we both know you’ll do anything to protect Clarke, and right now, unless you get that Ship down here, I won’t move her into the lower levels to protect her from the blast.”

He looked at the radio, trying to understand what to do when he heard Clarke moan. He whipped his head over to stare at her as she talked down to McCreary’s severed head. “Why are you still here?” Then a pause as both he and Octavia stared at her, though she didn’t look at them. “Give up already.” Clarke said, but not to anyone in the room. The trail of blood from her neck lining around her throat. 

He stared at her, at the woman that was living half in his world, and half in another, and in a single moment the last knot of confusion about what had changed about Clarke Griffin released, and he suddenly understood what Madi had meant. He understood what he had to do.

He lifted the radio to his mouth, dazed as the world started to come back into focus. “Murphy, do you read?” 

“Yeah, barely, how’s it going down there?” Murphy’s voice broke and crackled through the speaker. 

Bellamy looked over at Octavia, Miller and Indra tense beside him.

“Ask Shaw if he can contact Eligius, ask them if there are missiles being directed our way.”

“What the fuck?”

“Just do it Murphy,” Bellamy replied, his chest tight as he tried to see a different way out of this.

“Fine. Hold on,” Murphy said as the radio went to static. 

“Bell, this is straight from Raven,” Murphy’s voice crackled through, “she’s been trying to override it but she says there’s a hydrazine missile that’s fueling, and she’s locked out of the mainframe, she can’t stop it. What the hell is happening down there?” 

“McCreary was here, he,” Bellamy paused, “he’s dead now, but not before he fucked us.” Bellamy decided to leave out the part where it was actually Octavia who’d pressed the button. Bellamy waited a moment, letting the static fill the air, “did Raven say how long we had?”

“An hour, maybe” his voice came back through tightly, “I don’t suppose you and Clarke have found the magical get out jail free card have you?”

“No,” Bellamy said tightly. He looked at Octavia, she nodded, telling him to get on with it, telling him to explain that their future was on this desolate earth, their leader a Queen addicted to power. He had to save her from herself, save all of them. He took a breath yelling out the words as quickly as he could. “Murphy, whatever happens, don’t let the Eligius ship land, no matter what!”

“Bell!” Murphy’s voice responded in panic as Octavia swiped the radio from his hand, flipping the radio off as she shook her head in disappointment. 

“Oh Bellamy, I get that it’s hard,” Octavia said, “you’ve had it easy up there for a long time. But don’t worry, once the dust has cleared we’ll have plenty of time for you to see it my way.”

“Octavia” he said, as she walked out the door, leaving McCreary’s head and body where they lay. Octavia paused near the entrance for a moment. Her gaze running across Clarke’s limp form in the chair.

“You heard Raven, Bell. One hour. One hour to decide to do the right thing,” she said.

“Octavia,” Bellamy said hoarsely, “I love you.” He watched her eyes begin to gleam, and it broke his heart. “But you’re making the wrong choice, the bunker will not survive those missiles. If you won’t let us search, please, get your people out of here, use those ropes we came down on, get them on the transport ship while Clarke and I find the coordinates.”

Her smile disappeared, “is my world not good enough for you big brother?” she whispered as she nodded at Miller and Indra. They let go of his arms and he collapsed backwards as they moved to the door. 

“I’m going to move Wonkru to the lower levels. I’ll return soon to see if you’ve changed your mind,” she said twirling the shock collar trigger between her fingers. 

“You’ll regret this Octavia,” Bellamy warned, as she moved to close the door on him and Clarke. 

She hesitated a moment, looking at him, “it’s Bloodreina.” 

The door closed, and all Bellamy was left with was a dead man’s head, a flame destroyed, and Clarke. The woman that had filled his mind for two hundred days plus six years, and who’s own mind was filled with the voice that Bellamy hoped would save them all.

***

As soon as the door closed Bellamy was on his feet, up and over to Clarke’s hunched form. 

“Clarke?” he asked, placing his hands gently around her face. It was pale and cold and when he turned it up to him her eyes were open but it was like she couldn’t see him. A small groan escaped her lips and he pulled his hands away, the fingertips dotted with black blood. He looked down.

“Shit.” The blue sleeves of her jumpsuit were covered in rivulets of black lines. McCreary had ripped her stitches as he’d zip tied her to the chair. And with a sudden sense of shame he realized he’d yet to untie her. They hadn’t bothered taking away his pocket knife and he set to work on the strap that was digging into her right wrist. 

That was when the first shock hit. 

He pulled his hands away from where they’d been clasped around her, his fingertips numb. 

“Stop it!” He screamed, looking up at the little camera, then back down at Clarke as the convulsions gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing. The shaking stopped nearly as soon as it began. 

“Clarke,” he asked, scared of her answering, scared of her silence.

“I’m okay,” she breathed out faintly, “not really, but,” she raised her head, the collar bobbing with her breaths, “it was a low burst. I don’t think Octavia is the one watching the camera.”

Bellamy felt sick to his stomach, “that was low?”

“Maybe just leave the ties alone, okay?” she said, licking the blood off her lips. She was more aware now, but she still kept her eyes averted from him, from the floor.

He stepped away from her, walking to the other wall and back, his hands on his hips, his mind racing to understand everything that had happened. But with a locked door, and no radio, he realized he only had one real question that mattered. “Clarke, is it true?” he asked, “what Octavia said about you telling Abby to kill Wonkru.”

“What does it matter now Bellamy?” She croaked out. 

“It matters!” he yelled. “It matters that you lied to me. It matters that you can’t trust me. We’re about to lose everything because you can’t just talk to me.”

“I talked to you every goddamn day on this piece of shit planet Bellamy!” Clarke screamed back at him, her eyes wild now, the color back on her face. “All I wanted was for you to answer me! That’s all. But you didn’t. Not you. Never you. No answer, until her.” She reared back as much as she was able to in her chair, her mouth clamped shut as though with horror she realized what she’d finally let it out. 

The confirmation he needed clicked into place, even though it wasn’t the answer he’d been looking for. “What does that mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Trying to show her he could handle whatever it was she’d tried to lock away. 

“Nothing,” Clarke said, shaking her head, “we need to talk about what you’re going to do, you need to get as many people on that transport ship as possible before the missiles hit. Octavia thinks the bunker will withstand it but she’s dooming them.”

“Clarke,” he came over to her, kneeling in front of her, but held his hands loosely at his sides so the camera could see he wasn’t trying to free her. “Answer the question.”

“It was stupid,” she said, softer now, resigned, but Bellamy angled his head as she tried to look away.

“I don’t care,” he said. “You’re going to tell me everything. Now.” He could see her lips trembling, her eyes darting away from him. Squeezing shut. 

“Tell me about the radio calls Clarke,” he said, knowing he needed to lead her there. He would be her head. He cautiously reached up a hand, holding her chin and turning it to him. Finally, those blue eyes held. “Tell me what happened.”

She let out a thin sigh. “There was a radio. Broken, parts falling out,” she began haltingly, “I found it in the ruins of Arkadia, after realizing I wasn’t getting into the bunker.”

“Okay, and you called me on it?” Bellamy asked.

“I would have talked to you on it anyway,” she said, scarlet creeping up her cheeks, “I missed you so much Bellamy. Talking to you, waking up and saying hello, telling you about the day, what I’d done, and found or not found, falling asleep talking about anything I could to distract me from the hunger, the thirst, it kept me alive for those months before I found Shallow Valley.”

“Glad I could help,” he said shakily, and she smiled at him, a small turn up at the corner of her mouth.

“But you didn’t,” she said, and he felt his stomach drop as she stared back over at McCreary’s head, “this really isn’t the time you know.”

He licked his lips, trying not to spook her. “Who answered you Clarke? Who could answer you on a broken radio?”

“You think I’m crazy?” She said, a small broken laugh escaped her. “I think so too. I kept trying to ignore her, kept talking to you, but really, I was answering her questions. Talking back to her. And I hated her for the things she told me, but I, I was so lonely Bell, I had this beautiful little girl that needed me, needed me to be strong, but this voice, this voice knew what I was, knew I was a monster and made me think that maybe that was a good thing.”

“What did she say?” Bellamy asked, trying to understand how they’d all missed it. How they could have made jokes about Clarke going crazy, without realizing what she’d been afraid of all along.

“She warned me,” Clarke said, “she yelled at me. Some days she was actually friendly, curious, some days she wanted to be the death of me. For a long time I thought she was death, I’m her commander after all.” Clarke shrugged, then winced at the motion. 

Bellamy’s throat was dry, and he had a sudden realization that he couldn’t, none of them could, truly understand what Clarke had been through. They couldn’t even come close to imagining it.

“What about the bunker Clarke?” he asked, trying to find a way to make what Octavia said make sense. “Did the voice tell you to” he paused, trying to find the right way to ask it. “Did the voice tell you to have Abby kill them?”

Clarke leaned back from him, her expression furious. “No! That’s not how it happened. Octavia makes it sound like, like,” she faltered, “I just thought they should know the truth. Like my Dad thought the Ark should know about the air. People should have a choice in their fate. Octavia refused to tell Wonkru about the state of the earth. I shouldn’t have, we shouldn’t have hidden it from Arkadia when Praimfaya was coming, this was making up for it. I thought this was the better choice. This was me learning from the mistake.”

“What happened Clarke?” he asked, realizing that her fingers on her right hand were twitching, trying to play with a watch they couldn’t reach.

She sighed, “I told you, I was planning on putting Madi, and myself out of our misery. I just thought, why should Octavia, my mother, Miller, everyone fight to the very last person for nothing? Why should they live in terror of those fighting pits if they didn’t have to? So I told Abby to tell Wonkru, to give them the option to die painlessly. Abby had enough supplies to do it still.”

“Like Jasper’s party,” Bellamy said, his mind filled with visions of teens twisting their bodies to music, cups of finality in their hands.

“Yeah,” Clarke said, “but instead,”

“Instead Octavia heard,” Bellamy supplied for her, Clarke nodded. 

“She accused her of treason. Marcus defended her. They both died in the pits a week later.”

“Oh Clarke,” Bellamy hung his head, sitting back. 

“Yeah,” Clarke sighed, “that’s what the voice said too.”

“And your plan to get the coordinates from the Flame, to come up and get us to help. You said that you bugged their camp to learn all that, that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

She groaned, “I thought if I told you all that a voice in my head told me this story about another planet you might not take me seriously. And then when everything McCreary did, and Shaw told me, turned out to match up with it...I just figured I’d ask for forgiveness instead of permission.”

“Because we’re so good at forgiveness?” He asked forlornly. She nodded back sadly. 

Bellamy sat down on the floor, staring up at Clarke’s face. “Is it talking to you now?”

Clarke looked away from him for a moment, then shifted back. “I really thought it was the flame Bell,” she said, her voice small, tears streaming down her face, “but now it’s gone, and this voice is still in my head. So I guess I really have just lost it. Which means I’ve lost Madi.” A sob ripped through her. “I just wanted to do one good thing. She was my one good thing.”

His heart wrenched, “you’ve done a lot of good Clarke,” he said, “I’m only alive because you got us to space.”

She let out a small chuckle, “we should have just stayed up there, it was so blessedly quiet,” she paused, looking back down at him. “But then we came back to this hell and she’s been bitching at me ever since, but she’s just so damn annoying and now I know it’s just in my head, so that just means I’m annoying,” a small, sad little grin on her face. 

“It took you this long to figure out you were annoying Princess? I knew that the day you told me the air could be toxic.”

They stared at each other, Bellamy looking up, Clarke looking down, her bloody smile cracked open. 

He reached up and pushed the strands of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ve been an asshole. I do that when I’m terrified.”

Clarke stared at him sadly. “And I’m a liar. At least you’re not insane.”

Bellamy cupped her face in his hands, “you’re not insane Clarke, you just haven’t been using your head very well.”

The doomed grin on her face dropped off, “what are you talking about?” She asked warily as he stood up, dusting off his pants, and began walking slow circles around her chair.

“This voice,” he said, “you started to hear it after Praimfaya? Never before?” He was putting the pieces together for her now. 

“I think so,” Clarke said hesitantly. “I think, the first time I can remember was when I was running away from the flames, trying to reach Becca’s lab. It was,” she paused, a shudder passing over her face, “it was mad that it lost you.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Bellamy said, still walking around the chair, staring at the stream of blood running down her back.

“Is this a joke to you?” Clarke asked, anger creeping into her voice and Bellamy couldn’t help but smile again. 

“No, Clarke,” he came around to face her. “You’re just usually smarter than this, but if you need me to Raven it out for you…”

“Apparently,” Clarke said dryly. 

Bellamy sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Clarke, did you forget about the fact that we took a piece of artificial intelligence out of your neck? A thing that bonded with your literal brain for over an hour?”

“No Bell, that memory is real sticky, thanks,” Clarke said rolling her eyes at him, but she was watching him closely, leaning forward. “That’s why I thought it was the Flame reaching out to me, maybe Becca trying to communicate, or Lexa? Even though it, it didn’t feel like either of them.”

“Well the theory that it’s the Flame has gone to shit if you’re still hearing the voice,” he said. 

“Bellamy!” Clarke said, exasperated, “I’m strapped to a chair, I’ve got a damn collar on again, and my child is up in a spaceship that’s about to rain hell down on us. Just tell me what you think is going on?”

He leaned down, stared at his favorite shade of blue, the adrenaline starting to prick at this fingertips. “You’re not crazy Clarke. I think you’ve been right this whole time, only it was never the Flame, it was another one of Becca’s AI’s.”

She stayed silent for a beat, blinking slowly, “run that by me again?”

“Clarke,” he kneeled down once more, placing a hand lightly on the back of the collar, another one under her chin. “What is the voice telling you to do now?”

He could feel her suck in a breath.

“Just to listen,” Clarke said, “over and over and over and...,” Clarke whispered, her eyes wide, “I’m not crazy,” a slow smile spread across her face before faltering, “but Bell, they won’t let me leave this room alive.”

“I think someone might,” Bellamy said softly, “I’ve just untied you and nothing happened. I think we may still have some friends down here.”

Clarke looked down at her hands and feet, now free and looked back up at him.

“We’re not dying on this planet Clarke. And we’re not going to live out our days on a spaceship eating algae. We’re going to find a new life. A second chance.” he said taking his hands off her face and looking toward the door, “and so are they.”

Clarke turned her head as quickly as she could. Gaia and Jackson stood before them, blood on their clothes, the collar trigger and key in their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaia and Jackson are in the house! That Becca, always another A.I. up her sleeve. 
> 
> Hope you are enjoying, kudos and comments always appreciated :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the sun.

“Gaia?” Clarke whispered at the slight woman before her staring back at her intently. “Jackson, what are you-”

Gaia came over to her but sucked in a sharp breath as she saw the littered remains of the Flame on the floor, she stared at them, tears in her eyes. “My mother and Miller told us you were here, what you’ve come to do. We want to help.”

“You’re willing to betray Bloodriena?” Bellamy asked, standing in front of Clarke as Gaia placed the key to the shock collar in his hand before kneeling down to gather the pieces of the Flame together, placing them in the little cigarette tin.

Gaia stood back up, lifted her chin, her close cropped blonde curls and simple armor making her intense presence all the heavier. “We are loyal to Bloodriena, but she has spiraled since-” her gaze turned down. “We’re the few that know McCreary made it in, what he told her,” she said gazing cooly at the headless body.

“Clarke,” Jackson said, stepping over it. He was thin and sallow faced, trauma evident in the lines around his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you J-”

_LISTEN TO ME_

“Clarke,” Bellamy gasped, catching her as her knees buckled, the force of the scream in her mind nearly knocking her down. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Jackson asked, jumping into emergency mode as only Abby’s second could. 

Clarke couldn’t think. She couldn’t see. 

_Find me. Find me. Find me._

**I’m trying**

“What’s she saying?” Gaia asked stepping back, her eyes wide

“It’s why we’re here,” Bellamy said, “McCreary wasn’t lying about the coordinates being down here,” he reached out and grasped the acolyte’s arm, “he was just wrong about it being the flame. Clarke was too.”

**Where are you?**

_Where he would never look._

**Why are you telling me riddles?**

“Just tell me where you are,” Clarke moaned from the floor, her head shifting on top of the hand Bellamy had placed under it. Her eyes opening a fraction of an inch, tears sliding out.

Gaia stepped forward again to Clarke, kneeling over her, her face filled with wonder, “do the Commanders still talk to you Clarke? Even without the flame?”

“It’s not the Commanders Gaia,” Clarke said, pressing herself up from the floor, her hands sticky from her own blood as Bellamy circled an arm around her stomach, pulling her up. “It’s what Becca Prameheda left behind for us to find, to lead us to a new home.”

“I don’t understand?” Gaia said shaking her head, “we’ve been living here for over six years,” she looked over to Bellamy, “what could be here that we haven’t already found?”

“It’s where Cadogan would never look,” Clarke said faintly, “she, it, found me after Praimfaya, I thought I was going insane, but it’s been because of what the flame left in my head, it can talk to it, talk to me,” she knew she wasn’t making sense but everything was too bright, too loud. 

_When a man believes he is a God he stops looking up for answers._

Clarke could taste metal in her mouth. She was biting down on her tongue, so many years of making sure she didn’t say the words out loud in front of Madi, walking away with the radio in her hand to pretend a little more.

“Clarke, look at me,” Bellamy’s voice now, something outside the swirl of pain. She opened her eyes for the man that never seemed to mind how broken her soul was, because he was always breaking his right along with her. 

“It’s okay, just, talk back. I’m right here, we’ll help you figure it out.” She could feel his arm around her waist. The pressure hurting her healing ribs but it felt good in a way, the pressing pain reminding her that her clouded, dizzy mind was still attached to a body. 

**He stopped looking up?**

_A personality flaw to be sure_

**What is the tallest point in the bunker? Is that where you are?**

_I am above, watching the wrath below. So instead I seek you out. You keep the wrath inside. Like a sensible person._

**Oh for fucks sake.**

Clarke turned to look at Gaia, ignoring the frantic looks Jackson was tossing Bellamy. “What’s the tallest point of the bunker? 

Gaia tilted her head, “the alcove above the,” she stopped, turning to look at Jackson, her eyebrows nearly reaching to the wisps of curls.

“The fighting pit,” Jackson said back to her, “Becca’s A.I. is telling us it’s in the ceiling above the fighting pit.”

_Chicken little. The sky is falling. How about an umbrella?_

***  
The search began. 

_It wasn’t always a fighting pit._

**What was it?**

_A place of worship, to him._

Clarke could feel Bellamy moving, which meant she was also moving because her arm was around his neck and his arm was around her waist and she was vaguely aware that her toes were skimming the floor as he hauled her along the empty corridors of the bunker. The lights above them running past her vision. Dark. Light. Dark. Light.

**I need to give them something more.**

_Haven’t you given them everything Wanheda?_

“Clarke, we’re almost at the fighting pit,” Bellamy’s voice rumbled into her. “Gaia says Octavia moved Wonkru into the lowest level of barracks. Indra and Miller are stalling her, we should be alone for a few minutes.”

_Awe, it’s like a date, except you’re probably going to die._

**I’m going to give myself a lobotomy if you don’t stick to the point.**

_Touche. Good thing the point is right above you._

Her eyes flashed open and for a moment the world was just Bellamy’s wide, worried eyes and dark curls that flew out in every direction. 

“We’re here,” Bellamy said, and she could feel her feet hit the floor solidly, the stench and smear of blood making her even dizzier than she already was. “Are we supposed to be seeing something here Clarke, or…”

She could hear the tinge of panic at the edges of his voice, they didn’t have long before they were found by the red queen or the Eligius missile. Clarke looked up, the ceiling above hitting a point into the darkness, something could be there, but how could they even reach it to see?

**Help me.**

_Help me._

**How?**

_Cockroaches run from it._

Clarke took a deep breath, feeling the rumble of the earth tilting around them, “Murphy!” She gasped, stepping away from Bellamy slightly so she could stare at him without craning her neck. “Get Murphy on the radio. We need light, we need light above this point,” she lifted her hand straight up. 

“How? Octavia took the radio.”

“And handed it to my mother,” Gaia said stepping forward, placing it in Bellamy’s outstretched hand. 

“Will it reach?” Bellamy asked doubtfully, holding the small device in his hands, twirling the channel to hit. 

“It’s the only chance we have,” Clarke said, “we have to figure out the code before those missiles hit or we’ll just be stuck orbiting or living on this dead planet forever.”

“Or, you’ll just be dead,” Octavia said stalking out of the shadows behind the elevated grated fencing surrounding them. Gaia, lunged forward to lock the gate in front of her. 

_Say what you will but she wears crazy well_

“O, just let us try, what do you lose?” Bellamy asked, stepping in front of Clarke, not missing how Octavia’s eyes narrowed.

“Apparently just the traitors in my midst,” Octavia snarled, fresh blood streaking down her side and Clarke’s heart skipped at the thought of Indra and Miller.

“What did you do?” screeched Jackson stepping forward toward her, Gaia’s hand on his shoulder.

“Miller is an enemy of Wonkru, he’ll answer for his crimes where you stand,” Octavia said, “or you’ll die when the missiles hit.”

“So will you O,” Bellamy said, taking the radio Gaia had given him. Octavia raised an eyebrow but didn’t move. Her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “Murphy, top of the apex, tell Shaw to start sweeping the rubble from there, we need to clear the roof but don’t break it.”

“Bellamy, what the hell is happening!” Murphy’s voice came back angrier than ever.

“We need sunlight, we need it to hit the top of the bunker,” Bellamy returned, glancing down at the crown of blonde hair. “Can Raven delay the missiles at all?”

“You know she’ll try, but you guys need to get out of there,” Murphy said, his voice lower now, pleading.

Bellamy stared at Octavia, “I’m getting my family out of here Murphy, we just need you to work fast.”

“On it Bell, just” Murphy’s voice paused, “don’t make me eat Monty’s algae all alone. I’ll end up killing him.”

The air shook around them, and the force of the digger hit the ground above them. “Just dig Murphy.”

He kept the radio in his hand, going back and forth with Murphy as he talked to Raven, updating the movements from above as Octavia glowered at them. Was she curious? Clarke wondered. Did she want to see them fail so much she’d rather be destroyed by the bombs than hide in whatever safety the lower levels might provide?

Bellamy and Murphy’s voices began to fade away as Clarke could feel the back of her neck throbbing, Bellamy’s hand clasped so tightly in hers that pins pricked her fingertips.

All around them the bunker rumbled from the giant hand sweeping across the wreckage of the Polis tower, shifting the land from above. Octavia had taken to stalking the outside of the cage, the blood on her face bright against pallid skin. Death from above watching their every move. 

_Funny, at one point I thought you unreasonable. I have been lucky to walk with you._

**Will you miss me?**

_I’ll miss me._

“Clarke,” Bellamy said, searching her bloodshot eyes, the effect eerie as the black lines of vessels scattered across the whites.

“How much longer until the missiles are dropped?” 

“Twenty minutes, Raven said we’ll have maybe another ten before they hit.”

He turned to look back at Octavia, “your people will die if you don’t get them out the other side of this bunker Octavia, give them a chance. Shaw can lower the ropes where we came in.”

“This bunker has held for over two centuries Bellamy, it will hold now, Wonkru is strong, we will not run,” she said, her lips curling against her teeth, her hand clawing at the metal gates, “even if you do.”

Bellamy’s heart thudded in his chest and he tore his eyes from the monster that wore his sister’s face. There was no place he wanted it all to end less, stuck in the belly of the planet that had wrought such damage to the few people in his life he loved the most. 

Bellamy looked to Clarke, but she was staring up. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke whispered, “I can see her.” He whipped his head up to the apex of the bunker but saw nothing but darkness, then suddenly, the sun broke through. 

The top of the bunker had not been solid metal, but glass as thick as the ones on the ark’s windows. Framed with steel, criss crossing in layer after layer as patterns of dirty sunlight splayed across the blood-stained cement, surrounding him and Clarke in the middle.

“I can’t wait to show you,” Clarke whispered beside him, her face lit up by the rays. 

“Is it the patterns on the floor?” Bellamy asked desperately, knowing the seconds were sliding by them.

“Can he come with?” she asked, staring up, and it dawned on him that she was still talking back to the thing in her head, she wasn’t answering him at all. 

“Clarke,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her, she seemed like she was under a kind of spell, her fingers still clutching around the fabric around his waist. “Do you have it? Do you know the way?”

It was like a storm had passed, and she broke her gaze away from the sunlight pouring in. She brought her face close to his and for a moment before her lips touched his he could have sworn he saw someone else looking out through her eyes. 

He felt a shock go through him, the pain flashing up his spine but he held on to her anyway. It felt like it mattered, her lips, the electricity that passed from her to him, the terrible pain that spidered up his neck. But it was nothing compared to the sweetness of kissing her lips, something he’d imagined so many times. He didn’t lean back, he didn’t push her away. If he was going to die, he was going to die kissing Clarke Griffin.

But he didn’t die. 

In a hair’s breadth he was no longer in a fighting pit, but in a structure that made the word church swing into his mind. Light streamed through stained glass windows, charcoal drawings of his and his family’s faces lined the walls, charms and books, and leftovers of a life scattered about. It was filled with so much color. Colors that seemed to have been stripped away from him after years of the ark’s dull uniform grays.

His body was free from the pain and trauma of the last few hours, his mind startlingly clear. If he thought about it he could still feel a strange pressure on his lips, as though the Bellamy that was standing in a fighting pit beneath the earth kissing Clarke was still there, but also here, also next to Clarke. 

“There he is,” she said, laughing a little at the end, “hell of a way to come along Bellamy,” she teased, the color in her cheeks warming the face that wasn’t battered. The pale skin clear of the black-blooded bruises down her arms, dressed in the blue henley she’d worn as they’d run around the woods battling Mount Weather. Her shoulders pushed back, the worry melted off of them. It was the Clarke Griffin he never got to meet. The one that had disappeared the day Jake Griffin had found a problem with the Ark. 

“Clarke? Where are we?” He asked, feeling as though he should be more worried, but instead he felt calm. 

“Literally or figuratively?” She asked, walking over to him, and slipping her hand in his. 

“Both would be good to know,” he returned, as he grasped her warm fingers in his own, marveling at the realness of it. 

“Literally, we’re still there, in the pit, that’s all happening,” she said slowly, following his gaze as he looked around the room. “But figuratively we’re in the A.I., or, it’s making us see something else, which is, or was my home in Shallow Valley.” She turned to capture his gaze now, “I always wanted to be able to show it to you, I guess she let me.”

“That’s me, a benevolent guiding light in the darkness,” quipped a voice behind him and he whirled around, searching for its owner. 

Perched on a large table at the end of the room sat Charlotte. But not the scared, miserable child Bellamy and Clarke had known. Before them sat an old woman, her hair still in twin braids, but lined with gray. Her features folded and creased. She had never been a child, her appearance now matched the age the world had demanded of her.

“Hello you terrible, terrible thing,” Clarke said, staring at the A.I. in awe and anger. She didn’t walk closer to the figure, but leaned in to Bellamy’s side, resting her head on his arm as she stared at the voice in her head given form.

The illusion of Charlotte smiled widely, “welcome to the epilogue Wanheda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A blast from the past. More to come. Hope you enjoyed!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations with ghosts have interesting consequences.

Bellamy felt like he was seeing everything through a screen. The A.I. wore a face he recognized, but yet didn’t. Clarke felt real against him, but if he thought about it too hard he couldn’t feel her at all. 

“Did you bring us here to help us? Or kill us once and for all?” Clarke asked quietly. 

The odd, old vision of Charlotte blinked innocently. “I have no power over anything Wanheda. I simply observe and chit chat when the weather is fine.”

“Didn’t sound like observation for the last six years,” Clarke shot back.

“You’re probably right,” the AI said, hopping off the table with an agility opposed to the age she appeared, and walked towards them. “But there was finally no more interference. No trees and soil and people to sift me out before I found the perfect receiver. Perhaps I was overzealous.” She touched the back of her neck, indicating whatever had been left in Clarke’s mind from the flame. 

“You grew to like me though,” Clarke said, the confusion softening the anger the lined her words, “you tried to warn me. Or help me. Or convince me to kill myself. Depending on the day.”

Charlotte tilted her head, a thick braid swaying toward the floor, “or, I was just fulfilling my core command.”

“Core Command?” Bellamy said, his own voice sounding tiny and distant to his ears. “We’ve heard that one before.”

Charlotte looked over to him, her grin sliding off. “A.L.I.E was before my time. Becca made me after the smoke had cleared.” She spread her hands out around her. “Is this appearance all right? Sometimes I get confused too Clarke, I’m over two centuries old after all. She’s something you both shared, correct?”

Clarke and Bellamy looked at each other, the weight of that little girl’s life the tie that had initially threaded them together. “Yes, we’re responsible,” Clarke said softly without explaining more. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy said, unsure of where to go. Small talk didn’t seem to be the thing that would save them. Clake looked up at him, nodded.

“Praimfaya II,” Clarke said, “Becca knew that it would come. That Eligius IV would come back someday. Your core command is to give us the code so we can go to where she sent the other missions. To a viable planet.”

Charlotte frowned, “ah, not so much actually,” she said.

Bellamy could feel Clarke’s body tense beside him, “what do you mean?” The fear creeping out in her words as she left his side and slowly walked toward the AI. “What were you made for if not to be another ark? Why even fill my head with your voice? Why harass me all these years?”

“I was not made to protect you,” Charlotte said flippantly. “I was made for the Earth. Becca made and hid me before Cadogan ended her for spreading nightblood. She created the Flame to protect and guide the grounders, she created me to protect the Earth from Commanders of Death like Cadogan, and A.L.I.E, and you, Clarke Griffin.”

Suddenly Clarke felt like she was back to that day, running from the flames, feeling the beginnings of these traitorous thoughts swimming in her mind in her panic and all she could say was, “you’ve done a shitty job then.”

“What could you do to protect anything, anyway?” Bellamy asked stepping forward to stand between Clarke and Charlotte, even though he had no idea what harm could be done to them in this illusion, “no one even knew you existed until you hijacked Clarke’s mind.”

“Rude,” the AI said, twisting Charlotte’s face into something close to derision. “And incorrect. I should have been able to speak to so many more, so many more minds. Warn them, guide them. Stop the meltdown before it began. But-”

“But Cadogan and A.L.I.E.,” Clarke said mournfully, her head moving away from the illusion in front of her to gaze at the memories on the walls. 

“Yes,” the AI said, seemingly regretful, “there should have been thousands of flames handed down, everyone in that bunker should have taken the nightblood serum. Creating receivers to hear my call, to make their way to those reactors once the earth stopped rolling. But Cadogan wanted total control. He twisted the flame, all but hid my call to it, and then burned Becca for good measure. There was no one to reach, until you, and by then the cat was obviously out of the bag. I was a bit,” the AI shrugged, “ticked off my purpose was irrelevant, I may have treated you with less care than I should have.”

“So why keep talking?” Clarke asked desperately, “why do any of this Charlotte, why tell me to walk into the Eligius camp if there was never any goal behind it, never any coordinates?”

A small smile spread out on Charlotte’s face, eyes crinkling as something that Clarke would call pride glimmered beneath. “Now when did I say that?”

Clarke stared at her a moment, something edging behind her mind, what the voice had always asked her to do, “okay, I’m listening.”

“Of course you are, now that the book is coming to a close,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “It won’t come as any surprise to you that Becca hated herself for what A.L.I.E had done to the world. How she regretted it.”

“I know the feeling,” Clarke said softly. 

“Yes, you’re very much alike,” Charlotte said, “and as the fires raged and cleared the earth I was suppose to protect I found your mind. I was meant to speak to the technology of what you call a Flame, but all you had were the bits of ones and zeros left over, so it wasn’t quite a good fit, it befuddled me if I’m being honest. But I just couldn’t help myself, I had missed out on my purpose, and wanted to see the consequences through two of the last four eyes around to see it.”

“So you spent your time making her feel like she was losing her mind?” Bellamy asked beside her. “Did Becca create anything that didn’t end up evil or failing its purpose?”

Charlotte merely raised an eyebrow. “Bellamy, so nice to meet the voice I stood in for. You’ll notice she didn’t actually end up dead. You’re quite welcome.”

“You told me there was no hope,” Clarke said hollowly. “I got my mom killed because I told her there was no hope.”

Charlotte sighed, “I knew it was a possibility, but it wasn’t my purpose. I’m made to protect Earth, not run the statistics on an asteroid mining mission returning to us two hundred years late.”

“So why help me!” Clarke lashed out, stepping forward, her face creased in frustration. “Why do any of it? Why not stay silent and let me slip away if that was your design?”

Charlotte clasped her hands together, rolling her neck to look out the blurred window. “Why? Because Becca knew a great many things, but she knew better than anyone that she wasn’t infallible. She wanted to do better. That’s why the last thing she did was give me the choice to break the core command. If I thought I found something good enough to save from the fire.” The A.I turned to stare at Clarke, fathomless eyes locking on to her. 

“Madi?” Clarke asked, her voice small and traitorously hopeful. And Bellamy’s heart clenched at the thought that she didn’t even consider herself to be worth saving.

“I find the natblida charming,” Charlotte said, nodding along, “but I do not know her soul, the way I know yours Clarke Griffin.” 

“But I’m not a good guy ” Clarke whispered, “I destroy more than I save. Is that why you won’t tell us the way? Because you think we'll do the same on the next planet?” She looked over at Bellamy. His eyes were wide and rimmed red. The respite they’d been given within the workings of the A.I. were fading fast, the walls of her home in the valley bleeding away. She could feel the smoldering at her neck from the collar burns inching their way back up. 

Charlotte said nothing at first, her head tilted as if considering the words. She got up from her spot in front of them, her movements silent and muted. As she walked toward them the items in the room blurred in Clarke’s eyes and disappeared, until it was just her and Bellamy in a dark, empty space, Charlotte before them.

Charlotte took the hands they didn’t have clasped together and Clarke sucked in a breath, swaying slightly at the possibility that they might yet still have hope. They stood there, the three were a circle in this place of nothing. An A.I. shouldn’t be able to do that, to touch them. It burned Clarke’s hands, but she couldn’t let go.

“Did you need both of us?” Clarke asked in wonderment.

“I thought after all this time, you might like to bear it together,” Charlotte said as Clarke looked desperately at Bellamy. His eyes wide and lips pale. Charlotte’s grip on their hands tightening in time with a headache that spread behind her eyes. The hand that held Bellamy’s was shaking and she knew that he could feel it as well. 

“We’ve walked together a long time Clarke,” Charlotte said, the voice rebounding in the everlasting darkness. “I was made to be the witness to the ground’s last, heaving breaths, or protect the next. Instead, I’ve decided to let the universe contend with you. Isn’t free will great?” Her lips quirked, as her gaze slid over to Bellamy. “Not bad for my first kiss darling.”

The A.I. broke her clasp on them and stepped away, walking back into the darkness. No, not walking back Clarke realized, dimming, into nothing. 

You’re dying, aren’t you?” Clarke asked the retreating figure. 

“I’m ending,” Charlotte’s voice wavered in the darkness, “there’s a difference there if you squint.”

“Please,” Clarke’s voice shook her head pounding, Bellamy’s pressure on her hand the only thing holding her back from chasing the voice that had been her companion for so long, “what comes next?”

A roar filled her ears instead, and a whispered thought in her mind that she knew at once was only for her.

_Have fun storming the castle_

**I think I’ll miss you**

_Goodbye my Wanheda_

The next moment she was back in Bellamy’s arms, breaking away from a kiss and staring up into his brown eyes, the roar of the chaos around them filling her ears. 

“Do you have it?” She whispered up to him.

Bellamy reached a hand up and traced it down her face, “yes,” he said, “you?” 

“Yes,” she said, and looked up just as the whole bunker ceiling tore away above them, Murphy’s face appearing at the top, ragged and dusty. Clarke watched an oddly shaped bit of plastic float downward as well, the infinity symbol on it cracked in half as it disappeared in the other rubble around them. 

“What the fuck are you making out for? Did you get the code?” he screamed down.

They ignored him. “Clarke,” Bellamy said, his eyes never leaving her.

“Bellamy, we have four hundred and eighty two people to get out of this bunker, into the transport ship and up to Eligius in,” she looked over at Jackson’s bewildered face, he simply held up the stop watch, the terrifying numbers blinking at them, Clarke looked back at him “eight minutes and twenty two seconds. If this is going to be another explanation about how you used your head to save the day-”

Bellamy took a breath, a smile gracing his face, “Clarke I was just going to say, hurry.”

She was still smiling at him when the shot rang out. 

For a moment Bellamy briefly wondered why there was mud on his jacket, thinking it must be from above, but then Clarke crumpled to her knees, clasping her stomach. He was looking at the space she had stood before she’d fallen, the gun smoke clearing as Octavia’s blood streaked face came into view in the darkness, the gun clenched in her hands.

Right before Indra came up behind her red queen, sliding a sword through her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

There had been moments in Bellamy’s life when time had slowed down. When every excruciating detail was delayed, replayed, examined so that later he could go over and over every second and berate himself for the mistakes. 

It had happened when Octavia was found out at that masked party he’d taken her to on the ark. It had happened when he’d followed Pike’s orders. It had happened when he waited by the doors of the rocket, waiting for Clarke, and then waited no longer.

But that’s not what happened when he saw Octavia shoot Clarke. When he saw Indra drive a sword through Octavia. Time didn’t slow down. 

It sped up. 

Because now they only had eight minutes and ten seconds to save what was left of humanity. He knew that he screamed, he knew that he caught Clarke as her knees buckled. He saw Octavia’s eyes roll back as her mentor saved her head from hitting the bloody floor, slowly lowering her down.

So now they had eight minutes and five seconds. 

“Murphy!” He screamed, just as the man reached the end of the stairs, the entrance a gaping wound at the top. His face stretching in horror at the scene before him, Emori right behind him.

“What, what,” he sputtered, but Bellamy didn’t have time for his grief, he didn’t have time to feel. He’d have to do what he’d tried to practice every day on the ark. So he lifted Clarke up and placed her in Murphy’s waiting arms even though she screamed in pain, the gunshot in her abdomen soaking his own shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice low, surprising himself how little it shook, “but we need to get you to the transport ship, you need to start radioing Raven your part of the code in case-”

She nodded. She knew. Clarke always understood, “may we meet again,” she whispered.

“We will,” he said instead of the chant that ran in his veins. “You got her?” He asked and Murphy shot him a look that was somewhere between terror and anger. 

“She’s my cockroach, I won’t drop her” he said, and started running up the stairs, not faltering even as Clarke’s muffled scream tore into the pit.

He watched her blonde head glow in the sunlight raining down on them for a moment. Then sealed off his heart and turned to Emori and Diyoza’s soldiers as Indra came forward, Octavia’s body in her arms, Miller, Jackson, and Gaia trailing after her.

“Is she alive?” He asked.

“For now,” Indra said, “I’m sorry I was not able to, to” her voice trailed off as she looked up in awe at the world that was just out of reach.

“We need to get Wonkru out of here as fast as possible,” Bellamy said, “but she goes last.”

Indra nodded, laying Octavia down on the floor, Jackson stepped forward, and pressed gauze into the wound. The red queen laying among the spillage of her leadership.

“Let’s go,” Bellamy said, and they ran down the flights of stairs, Miller opening room after room after room. Men, women, and children pushing and pulling their way to the top, climbing the stairs.

Four minutes. Twenty six seconds.

“Let’s go!” Bellamy yelled, as they followed the last of Wonkru back into the pit. Bellamy placing his hand on Miller’s back. The man turning to look at him, confusion, relief, regret crossing his features as Bellamy nodded to him and jutted his chin up toward the sky. Miller grabbed Jackson away from Octavia’s body, pulling him up the steps with him. 

Three minutes. Fifty seven seconds. 

Gaia had her mother’s arm around her shoulder. The two women were nearing the top of the staircase. Emori had a child over her shoulder and was just behind them. 

Three minutes. Twenty three seconds.

He stared down as Octavia’s still form, her red blood mixing on the ground with what Clarke had spilled from her own. Her head moved slightly and he stared into her opening eyes. She didn’t speak, she didn’t try to staunch the flow of blood from her stomach. 

“My fight is over,” she whispered as he knelt down, moving the dark hair from their mother’s green eyes. Terror and relief painted there. 

He took a breath, this was not how it could end. “No Octavia,” he said, sliding his arms beneath her, lifting her up and climbing to the light. “Your fight has just begun. You led your people into hell. Now you get to live with what you’ve done.”

His heart thudding as they climbed upward and her screams ripped through him as they stepped into the light and it blinded her. 

67 seconds.

He ignored the burning in his legs and arms as he carried her away. He swallowed the fire in his throat as they ran from the ruins of Polis. He saw the streams of people ahead of him. He looked up as though he might see the glare of the missiles heading their way. He didn’t want to close his eyes. If he did that, there wasn't any darkness, but a string of numbers that were supposed to be worth this destruction. 

24 seconds.

He was nearing the ship. He heard the sonic boom from the missiles breaking through the atmosphere. He stepped onto the platform, sweat shaking from the hair in his eyes. Octavia had lost consciousness as he’d run. He held her in his arms as the bay doors closed, but not before he saw the missiles arcing down on them.

15 seconds. 

He placed Octavia into Jackson and Miller’s arms and the two ran off with her. He could still feel her weight there, his clothing now drenched in red as well as black.

“Bellamy!” Emori ran up to him, dodging shell-shocked Wonkru refugees as they began sitting down and holding on to the straps that were now screwed into every available surface to prevent injuries as the transport ship took off.

He didn’t ask her, he just took her gloved hand and they ran together down the halls to the control room.

Eight seconds.

The scene was chaotic. Shaw was at the controls, yelling into the speaker to hold on as the thrusters burned and the floor began to shake. Bellamy ran over to where Murphy was strapping Clarke into the chair, holding a black blood soaked bandage to her abdomen. Diyoza was beside him holding the radio up to Clarke’s mouth as she softly repeated the string of numbers over and over again, her face going gray.

“Murphy,” he whispered, wondering if this would begin to feel real.

Five seconds.

“Just get in the chair Bellamy,” he replied tersely, as he kept a hand on the bandage on her stomach and sat himself in the one to her right. 

“Lift off in three, two, one,” Shaw pulled up and they lifted off the ground just as the missiles hit the bunker. He didn’t watch the destruction before him. He just stared Clarke. She had stopped whispering into the controller, he thought he could hear Raven’s faint sobs on the other end saying, “I got it, I got it, I know honey, I got it,” over and over as Clarke repeated the code she had given everything to get for them.

Clarke looked up from the radio, her eyes glazing over as she stared at him. Slowly, she handed it to him. “Your turn,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. He took it from her. As Clarke bled out, as his sister perhaps did the same beneath Jackson’s ministrations, as they pushed up, into the stars he pressed the receiver down, wrapping his thumb around her pulse point below her father’s missing watch.

“Raven, are you ready for my part?” He asked

“Yes,” she replied, her voice wrecked.

He repeated the numbers that were burned into his brain by the AI in Charlotte’s form. The numbers that were their roadmap to sanctuary. He didn’t look away from her, not once. Not even when she closed her eyes. Not even when the shaky pulse beneath his hand stilled. 

***

In the stillness, Clarke heeded the advice given so often. She listened. 

_“Get her on the table, quick”_

_“Jackson, there’s too much blood, how are we going to-”_

_“We just have to keep her stable until we get to the ship, tell Harper to get a donation from Madi if we move fast there’s a chance-”_

_“Wait there’s something in her stomach, a piece of metal-”_

_“Oh my god, it’s a wing, the necklace do you think?”_

_“She’s lucky, the bullet got imbedded in it, saved her from it tearing through her heart,”_

_“I think, I think she’s stable”_

_“How’s Madi?”_

_“Bellamy’s with her,”_

_“Bloodreina?”_

_“Patched up. First one in cryo, for our protection and hers.”_

_“We’re meeting in the control room.”_

_“So. What happens now?”_

***  
The next time Clarke woke up, it was to a world without pain. But, apparently not a world without panic attacks. 

“Clarke, Clarke calm down you’re okay, you’ve healed, you’re okay,” Bellamy was speaking to her, he was helping her sit up, his large hands were splayed across her back as she leaned her head into his chest. The adrenaline from the last moments of pain and terror racing through her as she gulped in deep breaths of air, her whole body feeling wrong. 

“Bellamy,” she lifted her head away from his chest, staring up at him as he cupped her face in his hands, “what happened? Did we make it? Did it-”

“It worked,” he said, and that smile she so loved spread across his face, “it worked Clarke, the code worked, we’re on our way.”

“Madi?” 

“She’s good, she’s right next door to you actually,” he said, nodding to the cryo chamber next to Clarke. She turned to look through the frosted glass and breathed a sigh of relief at the still and composed face beneath it. 

“We did it?” She said hesitantly, not quite believing it could have all turned out their way. She turned back to him, “Octavia?”

His smile disappeared, “let’s get you to the mess hall. Monty left us some algae, talking around all of them feels weird.”

“Wait, Bellamy, why are we the only ones awake? How long has it been?” She asked, even as he lifted her off the platform, taking a blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. She felt her feet hit the floor, but then her knees buckled and she dropped.

“Shit, sorry,” Bellamy muttered, scooping her back up, setting her to sit on the platform.”

“Why aren’t my legs working?” Clarke asked, confused. She wasn’t afraid, but she felt so off. The confusion and anxiety that still threaded through her outweighing the panic at her oddly withered legs. 

“You haven’t used them in awhile,” Bellamy muttered. 

“Hey,” she reached out and held his shoulder, “what aren’t you telling me?”

Bellamy sighed, “Clarke, just come to the mess hall please, this room creeps me out.”

His hands didn’t leave her, just lifted her into his arms and carried her there. Normally, this would have ticked her off. But apparently, walking was different now, so she said nothing, just leaned her head against him, feeling dizzy and disconnected. She shouldn’t be hungry and thirsty. She should be waking up as she had gone to sleep, with a gunshot wound. A wound that wasn’t there now? 

That’s not how cryo worked. But the pain and horror of what to her had been just minutes ago was still fresh and agonizing, so it was better to let herself be carried along the corridors. Better to stare up at Bellamy, lean into his frame and accept that she was alive. This was much better than coming to all alone in Becca’s lab anyway.

When they reached the mess hall he sat her down at one of the long tables. He went over to grab two bowls and cups, filling them up with water and algae. The motions and sounds echoing out over the empty room. The large viewing window in front of her showing nothing but stars. No more earth in sight. She was a Wanheda untethered. 

He sat down across from her and she set her head into her hands and looked at him. He’d grown a beard. There were worry lines etched into his face, crinkling at his eyes.

He just stared at her. Clarke raised an eyebrow. He raised one back. A standoff. They were good at those. Or they used to be.

But she was thirsty, so she let him win this round and picked up the glass of water, greedily drinking it down, and marveling at the fact that it did not burn her throat. She set it down in surprise and put her hands to her neck. The cut on the back of it was nearly healed, still tender to the touch but the burns and bruises from the collar that had tormented her had vanished. Her fingernails had grown in. She looked up at him, startled.

“How long has it been since we left Earth?”

“About a month,” he replied, his dark eyes searching hers.

She nodded, letting the information trickle through, “you’ve been awake alone haven’t you?”

“Jackson, Shaw and Raven broke open the cryo manuals, figured out how to keep you in a coma while you healed, but it needed daily resets, so I said I’d take care of it.”

“And Octavia? Is she getting the magic coma healing treatment, or just me?” Clarke asked archly, unsure why she felt suddenly hostile about it. She felt unsure of everything, her emotions running like sludge in her mind. 

Bellamy shifted uneasily, “Jackson patched her up well enough. Indra knows how to position a sword to maim and not kill. Once we were sure she would live I had her put in cryo before she could wake up. Shaw wanted to kill her, half of Wonkru did too, I, I didn’t know what to do, so I guess I delayed the decision for a century.”

“Waiting for someone to fix it for you?” She asked softly. 

He simply shook his head tightly, his fingers turning white around his cup.

He looked down at the table, “maybe, maybe I’m hoping you’ll help me figure out the answer.”

“Oh,” Clarke said, hanging her head, “I’m so sorry Bellamy,” she whispered.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, looking out the window at the passing galaxies. “She was my responsibility and, and she almost, she did.” He stopped, at a loss at how to sum up what his little sister had become, the pain she’d inflicted, the parts of herself she’d destroyed to make the darkness worth it.”

“I should have been honest with you,” Clarke said, staring at the mucky green algae beginning to congeal on the bowl. “I should have told you what I did at the Bunker, why she killed Abby. Maybe then it wouldn’t have played out the way it did.”

“Why didn’t you Clarke?” Bellamy asked, his fingers curled around the metal table. “Did you think that I wouldn’t understand? Or at least try to?”

She turned her head away, “why are we the only ones awake Bellamy?”

“Stop ignoring the question,” he pleaded. 

“I’m not ignoring it, I just don’t know how to answer it yet,” she said, unable to mask the creep of annoyance in her voice. She was still reeling from it all, still trying to work her mind around this strange bit of time travel. “I’m asking you a question now. Why are we the only ones awake Bellamy?”

He slowly let out a breath through his nose, relenting. “The ship goes on limited life support while in cryo, it can handle a skeleton crew if needed, and after six years Monty deemed me passable at Algae production. It wasn’t necessary for anyone else to stay awake, and if something had gone wrong with you I could just wake up Jackson.”

Clarke nodded, “and you wanted me fully healed before we reached the new planet in case there’s trouble? Makes sense.”

“Yeah that’s why,” he grumbled. 

She tilted her head, “well, I’m healed. Do we just…”

“Go back to bed?” He asked.

A blush crawled up her cheeks. “Seems like the thing to do.”

“If that’s what you want,” he said softly. “That’s what we’ll do.”

They slipped into silence. Clarke knew that’s what they should do. That’s what they would have done six years ago. Why stay awake? Why waste precious days of life just wandering around on a ship when they could spend them exploring a new world? 

Because being safe and with Bellamy would be a new adventure too, Clarke realized. She turned her face to the window, the stars giving nothing away. 

“Bellamy?” She asked, tentative, “I don’t want to, go to cryo just yet,” He looked up at her, something she would call hope in his eyes, “but,” and then that look fled away.

“But?”

“I am tired, is there someplace to just sleep and not freeze?” 

Bellamy nodded slowly, “Yeah,” he said standing up and taking away her empty bowl. “Come on.”

Clarke set her spoon down on the table awkwardly. She could barely hold herself up at the table, let alone walk out of the cafeteria on her own. She was about to try anyway when suddenly his arms were under her once more and he was walking her along the twisting corridors until they reached two state rooms across from each other. She couldn’t help but flash back to those moments in the bunker, the lights flashing on and off, an echo in her mind. 

He opened one of the doors with his elbow, setting her down on a simply made bed. 

“Whose room was this?” Clarke asked, as he straightened out her legs, oddly skinny, and lifted the covers over her. She hooked her fingers into the wrists of the black long sleeved sweater he wore marked with the Eligius symbol. 

“Someone that’s not around anymore,” he responded gruffly, pulling away from her grasp. The covers were now tucked in all around her, snug as a murder bug in a rug. “I’ll be right across from you,” he said, opening the door for her. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke called, he didn’t turn around, but stilled, facing the door, “thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, turning around, looking puzzled as though he hadn’t saved her life twice in the span of two weeks. 

Clarke sighed, they were idiots. “Oh, you know, space travel,” she said lamely.

A grin finally flickered across his face, “goodnight Princess,” he whispered.

“Goodnight Bell,” she said, as he slipped out of her room, the door closing with a soft click. 

***  
Bellamy woke up a few hours later to screams. Clarke’s screams. He swung open the door and burst through to hers. She was still asleep, the nightmare clawing at her as she thrashed around in the covers, her hands up around her throat, trying to peel of a shock collar that wasn’t there anymore. 

“Clarke!” He yelled grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her out of it. 

Her eyes flew open and he narrowly avoided the swipes she took at him in her panic, “calm down, it’s just a dream, you’re safe.”

Finally, she stilled, her eyes wide and skin red with tear tracks. “Clarke?” He said hesitantly, smoothing back her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, worried for a moment the retrofitted cryo bed had gone wrong for her.

Relief flashed through him as recognition flooded her panicked expression, and her arms were around him, pulling him into her. For a moment he was back on the ring, hugging the girl that had just come back from the dead, with no understanding of the danger that awaited them.

She was still shaking, in his arms, the gasps drawing through her body like a spasm. “It was McCreary, the cell,” she whispered, “the shocks wouldn’t stop, I was dying, Charlotte was in my head.”

“He’s gone Clarke,” Bellamy said, pulling back to look her in the eyes, “he can’t hurt you, that A.I. can never reach you again. You’re safe.” He grasped her shoulders tightly, not wanting to hurt her, but needing her to feel it, needing her to understand that this time, this time he would be able to keep his word. 

She nodded, the jump of her heart beat in her neck slowing, but he could see where the words had fallen flat. There were no absolutes in their world. There was no way for him to keep that promise. Time and again, they reached for peace, for safety, and were spun back into the chaos. He couldn’t say anything to convince her, she knew the truth. 

“Have the nightmares stopped for you?” She asked him, breaking the uneasy silence, wiping the tears away from her face. “Did they stop when you were on the ring? When you thought you were safe?”

“Clarke,” Bellamy swallowed, the half memories of that first year thinking she was dead, dwelling on all that he’d lost, it was a blur now.

“Because every time I close my eyes I’m right back there again,” she whispered, her hands gripped his thigh, the nails digging in. “I’m looking at that wall of fire, I'm seeing that rocket go up, I'm turning that lever in the mountain, I'm watching Lexa get shot, I'm strapped in that chair with a collar, I'm putting a gun to Madi’s head, I’m holding one to yours in the bunker, I’m” her words ran together in a stream of sobs as she collapsed into him and he knew that it wouldn’t stop, this isn't something to hush or wipe away like tears. So he curled up against her, pulling her into him as she heaved out the litany of terrors that greeted her. 

He stayed like that until she fell asleep, and then he couldn’t come up with a reason to leave. So he didn’t. 

***

There was no morning sun to wake them, and Bellamy had never set circadian lighting, so waking up was disorienting. The first thing he realized was that Clarke had turned around to face him while they slept, her face pale but calm. If she was dreaming, this time they weren't nightmares. 

Regretfully, he brought his hand up tuck the hair out of her face, softly shaking her shoulder to wake her. 

She came back slowly, her eyes slitting open. He watched the confusion flit across her face, the dawning realization of what had happened. She turned her head to look out the window, confirming again that they had done what they set out to do, and a slow smile spread across her face. She turned back to him.

“Morning,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied, content to just stare at her a minute. They stay like that for a bit, not touching, just being still. But Clarke isn’t really good at still.

“Bellamy? Why am I awake?” She asked, turning over to lay on her back to stare at the ceiling, those brown eyes a little too intense for her right now.

“Because we slept for twelve hours and you probably have to pee,” he said lightly.

“Bellamy, seriously” her brow furrowed over dark rimmed eyes. The gunshot wound might have healed, but she didn’t exactly catch up on REM cycles. 

His brow furrowed, “we talked about this Clarke, your injuries-”

“Would have been waiting for Jackson and Harper in a century,” Clarke said. “Why turn the cryo into a healing chamber? Why stay awake, alone, when we could take care of it while orbiting the new planet? We went through all of that terribleness so we could live a life not trapped on a space station, I just don’t understand why you’d want to- ”

“Two hundred days,” he blurted out. Stopping the assault of her questions. She turned back to her side to look at him, he couldn’t get a read on her expression. He sighed, he wasn’t getting away with it. She never let him get away with it.

“Before we went down to the earth, I told you that I was putting my faith in someone I’d only known two hundred days,” he said, watching Clarke bite her lip and look away. “That was shitty of me, as though the number of days somehow cancels out what we went through together, what it made you mean to me.”

She lifted her eyes back up to him, “I get it,” she said softly. “I was lying to you and you knew it. I’m not mad at you Bell.”

“That’s not the,” he groaned, frustrated and turned over onto his back, pushing the curls out of his face. “That’s not the point. We keep running head first into shit shows and I’m so tired of it, aren’t you?”

Clarke shrugged, “I don’t think we were ever given a choice not to.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing Clarke,” he said turning back over to face her, the stars reflecting in those blue shades. “We have a choice this time. This time, we have time. I think we should do something better with it than traumatize ourselves again, don’t you?”

He watched the understanding flicker across her face, “so we just stay awake, because we want to?”

“No, not just because we want to,” Bellamy said, “I think we need to. I think we need time apart from them needing us, from the world needing us. I spent six years on the ring holding myself together so I could keep them together. You spent six years in the valley pretending you were okay, so you could raise a kid that could hope. But we never get to just be, be,” he struggled for the words that would make sense.

“Just be us?” Clarke filled in for him. As usual, the other half to his rambling thoughts. 

He looked down for a moment, at the slips of golden hair, lanky with debris again despite Raven’s best attempts to clean her up before the coma was set. “Yeah, work some things out, take a break, for say, two hundred days?”

He looked back up, her eyes wide and solemn. “What are we going to do for two hundred days Bell?”

A bit of nervous laughter broke through him, and her lips twitched in amusement.

“Whatever the hell we want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue comes next! Thank you so much for reading, I've so enjoyed reading all your comments and I've been waiting to respond to quite a few for fear of giving away a spoiler :)


	26. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends, we've reached the end!   
> Thank you to all who commented, kudos-ed, and read. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed yourself.

**Day 5**  
Clarke had recovered enough strength to walk by herself to the mess hall, the bathroom, and the cryo chamber. She leaned against the walls as she went, listening for the sounds of Bellamy doing his own wandering.

It had been a quiet few days. Bellamy was already acclimated to it having recently spent so much time walking the nearly empty hallways on the ring. Clarke was more out of sorts, missing the noises of insects, of boots in dirt, of fish splashing out of a stream, of Madi’s laughter drifting between branches. 

She stopped and rested at each window. Looking at the unfamiliar stars as she absently rubbed the tired muscles in her legs, Bellamy’s big idea of how they would spend this weird gap of time bouncing around in her mind. 

200 days, well 195 now. Days spent without her daughter. Days in a kind of suspended animation even though they weren’t in the cryo beds next to each other. She kept thinking there should be more purpose to it than “whatever the hell we want.” 

But Bellamy seemed only interested in quiet meals, and long stretches of time spent curled up together in the recreation room, working their way through tv shows archived by the long lost crew of the Eligius prison mining ship. 

This should have been a heaven to her. A dream during those lonely nights in Shallow Valley. But there was a pit of anxiety. A cord of tension in the form of a still healing bullet wound in her stomach. 

She didn’t want to push him into talking about it. Besides, she reminded herself as she leaned against the wall and made her way back to her state room, she enjoyed all the not yelling they were currently doing. Even as the pinch in her side reminded her it couldn’t last forever. She and Bellamy needed to resolve the Octavia sized specter, and all the other ghosts of choices and levers past. 

Because the problem was, even though they’d both said “whatever the hell we want,” that didn’t work. Doing what you wanted with no regard for the world, that was a notion for children, for delinquents believing they owned the earth. And she and Bellamy? They were anything but children. 

**Day 8**  
“Is that really what your home looked like? What Charlotte showed us?” Bellamy asked, watching Clarke draw on the window with a marker, making shapes out of the new constellations they were seeing. 

“Yeah, it was exactly like that,” Clarke mummers, “why? Do you have a problem with my decorating skills?”

“No that’s not,” he paused, waiting for a few minutes, gathering a bit of courage, “so you kept, you made, drawings of me?”

Clarke’s hand paused in her tracing, her arm falling down to her side as she capped the marker. “Yes Scarecrow, I missed you most of all.” He saw the crook of her smile in the reflection before turning to him. Something heavy settled on his chest. 

“I wish I’d had a picture of you,” he said softly. 

She tilted her head and he enjoyed the way the starlight filtered through the strands, longer now since the haircut Raven had given her.

“I could draw you one,” she said, her voice almost shy as she twisted the marker in her hands.

“Okay,” Bellamy said, putting his hands behind his head, a smile twisting on his face. “You gonna draw it like one of your french girls Clarke?”

He was rewarded with a marker to the face, and when he turned to look back at her she was facing the window, her back stiff, but in the reflection he could see her trying not to laugh.

“No more movies for us,” Clarke said sourly, but she couldn't hide the laughter that followed the threat.

**Day 16**  
Clarke began every morning by visiting Madi’s chamber. She told her what she’d done the day before, which usually consisted of recapping whatever shows she and Bellamy had watched. She’d speak about the things she wanted to teach her, stories she’d yet to tell her. 

She started to notice that Bellamy would follow her to the cryo rooms. Hover outside the door while she talked her way through whatever knot of confusion she was struggling with. She’d taken to drawing it out longer and longer, falling silent at times to see if he’d poke his head in. 

It was only when she moved over to stare at Octavia’s chamber did Bellamy step in. 

She had been in the middle of recounting the time Octavia talked her through some sword exercises for Madi, the child eager to learn something her hero was so skilled in. They had been laughing at Clarke’s sloppy movements, the silliness at trying to get her to picture what Octavia meant just through words. 

Clarke was telling the face beneath the glass how much she’d enjoyed making her laugh, since the month before she’d spent the whole conversation sobbing. Octavia had told Abby to not use some of the rare medication they had on a child that was dying, save it for a person who played a role in keeping the bunker operating, she’d made the choice between sentimentality and usefulness. She had nearly beaten Jaha to death when he’d given her a knowing grin at the decision. 

She didn’t look over at him when she finished, wiping a few tears away from her face and sliding a hand across the glass before walking toward the doorway.

“Did that really happen?” he asked, grasping her upper arm to stop her from passing.

“Yeah, year three I think,” Clarke replied, watching Bellamy’s face tense. “You can talk to her you know, it might help, with-”

“With what?” He snapped, leading her back in the hallway, the sliding doors hissing shut again. “I don’t have six years of conversations to go over with her Clarke, I just have her trying to get us killed.”

Clarke sighed, pulling her arm away. “Bellamy, when we get where we’re going, you have to be the one to wake her up.”

“Wake up the person who might destroy any hope of a peaceful life?” He retorted, feeling the edge of the panic begin, seeing her face in the gun smoke. 

“That’s not who Octavia is. It’s not that clear cut Bellamy. She’s not just a villain, and we’re far from the heroes,” Clarke said angrily, turning on her heel and walking back toward their matching state rooms. 

His rapid steps followed her. 

“Clarke I know you feel responsible for what happened but-” 

“No, you don’t know how I feel, you don’t know what either of us went through” Clarke said, stopping and turning back to him. “Charlotte, or that AI, whatever you want to call it, may have been kind to us in that moment, but she spent the better part of six years playing into my deepest fears, my darkest thoughts. She was the monster in my mind. But I? I was Octavia’s.”

Bellamy looked up at the ceiling. “Don’t say that Clarke,” his voice cracked.

“You need to listen to me Bellamy,” Clarke said, her face was determined. “She’s your sister. She’s lost. She’s more than a little broken, but she’s made up of all the things she’s had to do. I listened to her sob and scream at each impossible choice. I told her the Valley would be beautiful. I told her I would help her lead her people there. And then I told my Mother to turn Wonkru’s faith from her. I betrayed her. She shot me, she tried to kill me. But to be fair, I tried to kill her first.”

Bellamy set his hands on his hips, the glare in his eyes nearly making her step backwards from him. He was so angry, and it had nowhere to go. “You want me to be fair Clarke? Okay, let’s be fair. You tried to talk her out of the fighting pits once the farm was doing better. She ramped them up. You told her the Valley was dying. She decided she couldn’t bear to hear it. We gave her a way out, she wanted the power instead. She tried to kill you to keep it.” He took a long breath before saying the last part, the injury that had begun his unraveling with Octavia, long before that wall of radiation separated them. “She was in pain about Lincoln dying, so she chained me to wall and beat me for it.”

Clarke’s face twisted at that memory, at the reverberations those hits still caused to Bellamy’s soul. “She let the monster out Bell, you did too. As did I.” 

“We put it back in the cage,” he said hoarsely.

“She never got the chance,” Clarke pleaded. 

“I could have lost you again,” He said brokenly. “She would have let me die too.”

“And if you think that won’t haunt her the rest of her life, you’re wrong,” Clarke said softly. 

He shook his head, turning his face from her, unwilling to see what was so clear to her. So she stepped forward into him, placing her hands on his shoulders. Bringing one up to wipe away at the tension beneath the freckles.

“Bellamy, do you remember when I walked away from Arkadia, after the mountain?” she asked tentatively, not exactly excited to excavate that part of their history. He almost flinched at memory, but didn’t pull away from her.

“Of course,” he said gruffly, grasping the hand that had settled on his cheek and leading her to a bench. 

“I said that being there, seeing their faces, would remind me of what I’d done to get them there, what we had done,” she added quickly, seeing the flash of annoyance cross his face. “So I ran away, because not doing so was impossible. But you stayed, you were strong enough to face it. To see what was saved instead of what was lost.”

“What are you getting at Clarke?” Bellamy sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, staring at the sliding doors the cryo chamber.

“I’m saying that you need to do that now. You need to be grateful for what was saved, for what you still have. She’s alive Bellamy. You spent six years not knowing if that was truly the case. You've been given a gift, not handed a tragedy. You need to see that.” Clarke grasped his hands that had curled into fists on his legs, trying to get him to look at her.

“I feel like my sister died in that bunker Clarke,” he choked out, his hands curled into hers. “I think I’ve lost her, and this time I don’t want to go chasing after her. I don’t want to see the way she looks at me. I’ve never not tried to fix her. Who am I, if I’m not her brother?”

“You’re my Bellamy,” Clarke replied simply, like it was the obvious thing in the world and something in his chest evened out. “Don’t be responsible for her. Don’t ask for what she’s not capable of returning yet. But Bellamy,” and she turned his chin up to face her, “your sister didn’t die. She’s not something you lost. She’s just lost herself. Let her go looking for that girl that chased butterflies. Octavia has always surprised us. I’m betting she will again.”

 

**Day 21**  
“Explain to me again why I should run when nothing is chasing me?” Clarke asked rolling her neck to look up at Bellamy who was doing stretches across from her, using the wall to lean into it. 

Bellamy sighed as he abandoned the calisthenics and grabbed both of her hands to pull her up, “your muscles atrophied in the chamber since we used it to heal you instead of freezing you in time. Consider it physical therapy.”

Clarke crossed her arms in front of her chest, “so, we should start with walking then, yes? Since I’m such a frail and delicate flower now?

He shot her a look, “delicate flowers can’t shoot tequila like you can Clarke.”

“This is stupid,” Clarke said shaking her head, “I survived just fine without ‘training’” she finished her reply with air quotes. 

Bellamy squared up against her, a dangerous smile playing on his lips, “what was that about not running unless you’re being chased?”

Clarke took a step back, “nope, no, no way,”

“Sorry Clarke, but it’s my job to get you back to health, and if that means chasing you-”

Clarke spun on her heels and dashed off down the corridors, much slower and uncoordinated than she remembered, but with a thrill and happiness that were new. She knew he was probably just walking fast to keep her in his sights but even as her breathing became labored and her legs burned she found a feeling that she remembered from the valley with Madi.

As his light hearted taunts slipped by her, she realized what this was. This, this was _playing._ Pretending, enjoying, being carefree. Had she and Bellamy ever gotten to do this together? The smile that stretched across her face kept her going even as he finally caught up to her, swinging her around, their laughter echoing back through the empty halls. 

**Day 40**  
It wasn’t the day after they spoke about Octavia, but soon they started monitoring the cryo chambers in the morning together. Realistically, they both knew that nothing was happening to those within them. The tech that had kept the prisoners and crew alive would house them eventually too, and then no one would be around to watch over the vitals next to each chamber. But, after their discussion, talking to the forms below the glass felt right, felt necessary.

So now each morning she and Bellamy stood over the Madi’s chamber and Clarke would tell Bellamy a story about their time in Eden. 

Like the fact that Clarke would create colored chalk and paint murals of the 100’s adventures. That she learned how to write with both her left and right hands out of sheer boredom. That before they realized how toxic the earth was, they had sketched and planned out a whole village for Wonkru. Clarke learning the basics from books she found in fall out shelters. 

They’d pick and choose different friends each morning. Once she brought him to Niylah’s and told him how she’d found the trading post. Another morning made her fall down in laughter as they sat by Murphy’s and he recounted the time Monty had put him into a coma with an algae batch gone wrong. 

Then, they’d walk over to Octavia’s chamber. She would ask him about his version of stories Octavia had told her over the radio, reaching out to touch the scar on his arm when he talked about cutting it open to explain for the blood in their little apartment on the ark when Octavia had gotten hurt.

Slowly, the look in his eyes softened when he talked of her. Slowly, he let go of the anger. The hurt, the pain remained. And nothing he or Clarke could do would change that. When Octavia awoke, those were the steps she would have to traverse, but when she was ready, if she was ready to be someone that wanted redemption, he’d be ready to listen. 

**Day 55**  
“Go fish,” Clarke said, holding the cards up hide her face, leaving just her blue eyes peeking over the edges.

Bellamy was doing pull ups in front of her, and she was unabashedly enjoying the show watching the muscles ripple across his back. 

“You’re the only one playing this game Clarke,” he replied.

Her whole body felt warm. And she knew she didn’t have a fever. It was like she’d finally flipped a switch after six years of telling herself she didn’t need...need something that was so out of reach it was laughable. But now, at night it felt like her body burned as she ran her hands over herself unable to quench anything, but incapable of taking those few steps outside her door. He soothed her nightmares, but waking up from these dreams was something else. 

“Maybe, but you’re winning,” she said and she watched his arms relax for a moment beneath the bar, imagining that smirk crossing his face. “Go fish Bellamy,” Clarke repeated as Bellamy dropped to his feet, the black Eligius sweatpants low on his hips. She wore a matching pair, just with the top that came with it. He turned to face her, hands on his hips as his dark curls laid against his forehead in rivulets. She was right, that smirk was there. 

He knelt down in front of her, reaching out his hand and picking up a card from the pile that lay in front of her criss-crossed legs. He looked at the face for a moment before slipping it into his pocket to join the others. 

“Got any fours?” He asked

Clarke raised an eyebrow innocently, “fresh out, go fish.”

He snorted, stood back up and walked back under the bar and jumping up to do the set of four.

Go Fish is different in space, Clarke thought. Much better.

 

**Day 62**  
“What was your mother like?” Clarke asked him that morning. They had finished breakfast consisting of what it did everyday, Monty’s algae recipe and the Eligius store of protein bars. Bellamy had cleaned up, Clarke had made a game of leaping between the tables. She was pretty sure the rattling irritated Bellamy but she enjoyed the sensation of wind against her face that wasn’t created by the miles of running he somehow kept talking her into each morning. 

“Kind, practical, but rebellious enough to have a forbidden child, and smart enough to figure out how to keep her secret for sixteen years,” Bellamy replied, wiping his hands on the towel and setting it down, turning to look at Clarke as she sat down on the table she’d leapt to, now dangling her legs off of it.

“Did you ever blame her?” Clarke asked, tilting her head as he hung his, “for making you your sister’s keeper?”

Bellamy sighed, “sure, sometimes. But usually I felt proud, that we’d managed it so long, did something that was for us, and not for the ‘survival of the human race,’” he said in Jaha’s grandiose voice. 

Clarke laughed, “there’s that rebellious Blake spirit.” 

Bellamy smiled, “she would have disliked you,” he said, “Alpha station was a curse word in our apartment.”

Clarke smirked, “yeah, well earned. But who do you think slipped your mother the extra vaccinations for Octavia?” 

Bellamy looked up startled, “Abby knew about Octavia before her arrest?”

Clarke smiled fondly at the memory, it was rare she could speak about Abby without sadness or guilt. “Yeah, Octavia realized someone had vaccinated her when she didn’t go down with Chicken Pox in year three. Abby fessed up. I didn’t even know that story until Octavia told me. One of our better chats.”

“I had no idea,” he said, dazed. “Mom always told us not to trust the medical team, not to trust anyone.”

“Trust is earned,” Clarke said simply. “And she was probably right, Abby, Jackson, they helped where they could, the rest of the medical department wouldn’t have taken the risk.”

For a few minutes silence fell between them as Bellamy tried to rewrite conversations and moments from his childhood, finding the missing pieces. When he looked up Clarke had taken to staring off at the window, her face pensive once again. Something had been nagging him for awhile, and since they’d decided to “work” through their issues, it seemed like this was the time.

“Do you trust me Clarke?” he asked, and Clarke’s legs stilled from their absent minded swinging as she met his gaze. They were easily ten feet apart but it suddenly felt claustrophobic. 

She opened her mouth to answer, ‘of course,’ but the words fell short. “What makes you think I don’t?” She asked instead.

“You trusted I would come home at year five. I didn’t,” he said slowly. “You trusted that one day I’d answer your calls...and I didn’t.” He walked toward her now. “You trusted that I’d believe you when you got up to the ring, that you could rely on me to be kind to you, and I wasn’t.” He stood in front of her, she had curled her hands together, looking at her shoes. He tapped her knee lightly and she looked back up at him.

“Bellamy, you saved my life.”

“You saved your own life Clarke,” he replied. “I fought beside you, but you being alive right now, that’s all you Princess. You don’t have to owe me that one, and you don’t have to feel bad if you don’t trust me yet.” Her eyes watered, and she leaned her head into his chest. “But I have an idea to help change that,” he whispered into her hair.

**Day 83**  
“Bellamy to Clarke, over,” Bellamy said into the radio. 

“Bell, for the last time, we’re literally the only two people in the galaxy on this channel. You don’t have to use radio etiquette, I never did.” Clarke responded.

“Fine. Clarke, tell me how your day is going.” Bellamy asked.

There was a long sigh at the other end, then her voice came through. Clear and true on the pristine Eligius equipment. “Well, first I woke up and drew for awhile, I wanted to get that group of stars we saw for Madi to see later, and then,”

He let her ramble on as he walked around the ship choosing the next officer state room to pick apart and scavenge for anything useful or fun. He’d had the idea for awhile now, talking on the radio, like they couldn’t for all those years, giving Clarke a re-do of all the time she was faced with silence or a rogue AI in her head. 

He loved it. He loved hearing her mutter in frustration when she couldn’t hack into files on the mainframe, he loved answering inane questions she asked about greek mythology, or out of the blue questions like what color were Gina’s eyes? Did he sleep with a blanket? Did you know Miller before the drop ship? 

He would ask about how she kept the Rover running all those years, what greek gods were each of their friends like, how did she and Wells become friends?

Sometimes at night, even though their beds were separated by only ten feet and two doors he would wake up and answer her call, her voice heavy with sleep. Sometimes he’d leave his room and curl her into his arms, and watch the stars drift over them.

He always answered. 

Her voice stopped sounding surprised when he did.

**Day 130**  
He sets the bottle on the table with a heavy thud. 

“Uh oh,” Clarke said, looking up at him through the hair she was braiding, all curled up in the leather chair they’d found in the captain’s room and had moved to the window of their state room. He thinks of it as “theirs” because he’d stopped with the pretense of sleeping in his own sometime around day 100. 

“I think it’s time,” he announced as they both stared at the bottle of whiskey. Real whiskey. Not Jasper’s moonshine, not the stash of well tequila in the kitchen left by a cook, not the algae grain Monty had left for them, real, old earth whiskey. It had taken both of them fifty days to break open the safe in the last state room, and there it had been. 

Clarke, the greedy girl, had almost broken open the seal before Bellamy had promptly grabbed her by the waist, thrown her on the bed behind them and run out of the room with the bottle. 

He’d been looking for a way to go about it. The conversations that were still out of reach. Unlike the ring’s archives, the Eligius prisoner missions had contained some information around dealing with grief, and trauma, and PTSD. Perhaps under the guise of reform, perhaps just for publicity, but they were there, and together he and Clarke were slowly trying to figure out how to heal themselves of more than just the physical. 

He was pretty sure confessions while under the influence were not recommended, but he couldn’t help himself. He was a coward, and Clarke was even worse. After their discussion about Octavia, when she had brought up leaving him, he thought they were ready to talk about it more, about what it meant to them, and not how it related to Octavia. She had responded by switching off the radio and hiding in her room for two days. 

So, liquid courage it was. Or they would reach their self-imposed 200 day mark with the worst of it still rippling between them.

“This is irresponsible, we should save it for cleaning wounds,” Clarke said sourly.

“Nope,” Bellamy said, moving the door closed and sliding another chair in front of it and lowering himself on to it. “Today’s the day Princess.”

_1 hour later._

YOU LEFT ME AT THE GATE. WE DID THAT. BOTH OF US.

I HAD TO. I WAS HAVING A MENTAL BREAKDOWN. 

I COULD HAVE HELPED YOU!

THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS BELLAMY!

_5 minutes later._

“You know, I killed a panther. And my hair was red.”

“You found the time to jump Niylah’s bed. That was fun to hear about when I thought you were being kidnapped and savage by Azgeda forces.”

“Kidnapped yes. But Roan was a gentleman, there was no savaging.”

“Bell, I’m pretty sure Octavia and Niylah were a thing in the bunker.”

“Shut up Clarke.”

_20 minutes later._

“I followed Pike. I lost my way without you.”

“Well, what makes you think I wouldn’t have cheered you on at the time? Maybe if I’d been there I would have made it even worse. Maybe, we had to tread water apart, because otherwise we would have held onto each other and drowned.”

“Damn Clarke. Is this whiskey magic?”

_30 minutes later._

“Clarke?” He said her name, like he did sometimes just enjoying that he lived in a world where it wasn’t a question of whether she would answer.

“Hmmm,” she muttered in response, her face in the pillow as he laid across the leather chair.

“The flame, it’s destroyed, does that mean that Lexa?” He paused, his cheeks heating up, he knew she’d loved the commander, and it hurt him in strange ways to wonder if what she felt for him lived up to that. “Is she truly gone now?”

For a moment he thought she’d finally drifted off, the alcohol and the emotional hangover simmering in the room tugging her down. “I think so,” she said, her voice muted by the blankets around her until she flopped onto her back. “But, it was never really her in that flame, it was just bits of data, compressed and archived. Who she truly was died with that bullet in Polis.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. He could see past his own anger at her when she’d left them to stay in Polis. Could see how she felt like it had been the smarter choice. “I know you loved her.”

Clarke sighed, “Lexa was the only person that knew what it was like to be turned into a god, to be loved for being the worst version of yourself. Being able to fall in love with her made me realize I could do more than kill. It brought me back to myself.” 

“That sounds like a big love Clarke,” he said, his fingers clenched around the glass, trying to measure her words to what he’d felt with Gina, with Echo. 

“It was,” she nodded gravely, “but Bell, even when rationally I knew you weren’t answering, that talking on the radio was a farce, it wasn’t her name I kept calling, every day.” 

He looked over at her, her gaze cutting from the ceiling to lay over him, heavy lidded.

“Oh,” he said, his chest feeling tight. 

“Oh,” she agreed. 

_5 minutes later._

“Bell?”

“Yeah Princess?”

“That means I love you.”

“I know.”

**Day 188**

“Do you think sex will feel different on the new planet?” Clarke asked, her legs still shaking as Bellamy made his way back up from under the covers.

“Good question,” Bellamy hummed, “better have as much as possible in case it’s terrible there,” and he dove back under, Clarke’s laughs changing to gasps once more.

**Day 195**  
They got a drink by the big windows in the crew lounge. Not talking, or planning, or working through their demons. Those were resting just now. This drink was just for the stars. 

**Day 200**  
“Laundry is done. Dishes are clean. The control room has been double checked for undergarments thrown off in the heat of the moment,” Clarke called out as she wandered around the empty halls of the Eligius ship.

“All systems are showing green lights,” Bellamy responded from the radio attached to her hip.

“You know love it when you get all technical with me,” Clarke said laughing as she sauntered into the cryo chamber room, one hand behind her back. They met over Madi’s chamber, Clarke running her hand over the glass, cleaning the dust off it one more time. “See you soon kiddo,” she whispered.

Clarke looked up over the chamber to meet his eyes. They were ready. Two hundred days of talking, drinking, screwing, yelling, running, pull-up-ing (Clarke could now do ten under extreme duress that Bellamy would hide the alcohol and chocolate flavored protein bars from her). 

They were healthier and stronger than they’d ever been. They knew who each other was, all the scary bits, all the good bits, and the pedantic nerd bits. For so long the world had thrown itself at them. Now, now they felt like they could catch what it had to give. Because they would do it together.

“You ready?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over hers. 

“One last thing,” Clarke said, pulling the bottle out from behind her back and walking across to where Octavia lay, setting it down by her chamber.

“There was more magic whiskey?” Bellamy excalmed, running his hands through his hair. 

“Yeah smarty, you were so excited to run off with the first bottle you never checked to see the false back to the safe.” Clarke said, smirking. “This one is for you and O.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy sighed, “If you’re suggesting we wake up Octavia-” 

“Oh, hell no,” Clarke said shaking her head. “I’m just saying, we did our work, she has to do hers. Our job is to not stand in her way if she wants to go looking for redemption.”

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked, his voice wavering.

Clarke moved toward him, wrapping her arms around him and taking his face in her hands. “Have some faith in her Bellamy, she’s taken down worse foes than herself.”

He laughed shakily into her hands, pressing his lips into hers. They could keep going. He could keep kissing Clarke until the world imploded. But that wasn’t this kiss. This was a kiss goodnight.

Clarke pulled away from him, setting the panels on the screens. She hopped up on the platform, lowering herself down and looking to her right as Bellamy looked over his left. 

“Goodnight my love,” she said.

“Love you, sleep well Clarke,” Bellamy said, laying down and letting the cover seal over him, content in the knowledge that when they woke, whatever they faced, it would be together.

Clarke did the same as the cryo pulled her to sleep, but not before Charlotte’s last whisper came back to her, locking into place the thought she’d wake up with once they entered the orbit of the planet’s coordinates.

_Have fun storming the castle._

End Book 1.


End file.
